


The Extent of Love

by Rieka



Series: The Extent of Love [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fighting, Hate-to-Love Relationship, Hetalia, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Hetalia OC's - Freeform, Locked up, M/M, RusAme, World Meeting (Hetalia), demon!america, depressed!America, i change the personalities a ton-, secretive!america
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 66,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rieka/pseuds/Rieka
Summary: America, well, to say he never struggled would be a big fat lie.Yet, will the loss of support from his fellow nations send him into a spiral?Dark!Depressed!Bulimic!Secretive!America x RussiaMultiple OC's (human, state, nation, territory's) used.Human names used.Rated: T for violence (lol nobody's gonna pay attention to this)Hetalia belongs to Papa HimaTRIGGER WARNING
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Series: The Extent of Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636936
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79





	1. 1

In a sort of daze he watched. The interactions. So many conflicts between ‘First-world nations’, a group he was slowly being pushed out of. After-all, the first-world needed a middle class, and his was shrinking.

  
Surprisingly, that was the topic of today’s meeting. He was almost surprised he stayed on track this long.

  
“America! Your up!” Germany’s voice rang out through the throngs of fights. The blond had been dozing almost since the meeting started, probably tired from playing his Xbox or something, I mean, there was no other reason it could have been.

  
The sound of Germany’s voice did little to faze the American, besides a slight shuffle and him attempting to bury his head more into his arms.

  
“America, I swear!” England exclaimed from beside him, cutting off his fight with France to start another fight with the American.

  
“What Iggy, I’m tired,” America muttered into his arms, not even bothering to move, “I didn’t sleep last night.”

  
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have played so many video games!” England snapped, hitting him on the back of the head, hard. China and Japan winced from their spot off to his side, and the Philippines looked about ready to throw hands before she was stopped by Malaysia. Otherwise, no reaction from his neighbors.

  
Now, Alfred would have been fine with that insult to his pride if he had actually been playing video games. But no~ he was the one that had to deal with the Russian selling Russian artillery to his portion of the Italian Mafia. And not only that, another underground communist-anarchist, just ready to test his patience.

  
“America, we need you to present your topic on First-world nations,” Germany urged with an irritated look, “you yourself are one, now go!”

  
“So you know how the hero is totally awesome!” America proclaimed as several nations groaned and stopped listening. It was one of his many tactics, say something stupid, get everyone to stop listening, throw actual facts about his nation into incoherent jumbo, and end with something weird so everyone gets drawn back in.

  
As he started his speech he threw in the occasional, ‘illiterate children don’t fight back’, ‘technically, I’m not even first-world’, ‘capitalism is kinda slowly killing me’, and of course the golden ‘ya, by the way, did you know by today’s standards, America is a dictatorship?’ before getting to his grand finale, “And that’s why my military’s so big!”  
“America, we’re talking about the act of being a first-world nation, not military size,” France responded, getting drawn back in by that last comment like everyone else, “Are you honestly that dumb to relate the two? Oh wait, you are.”

  
‘Like I’m the dumb one,’ Alfred thought bitterly, trying not to let the Frenchman’s words affect him, ‘you’re the that fell for some half-cooked bullshit that I’ve been using for two centuries.’

  
He knew nobody listened to him. Other countries had a tendency to leave out everything unneeded, but Americans, no. They’d bring up your shoes while talking about Hitler and wait till your done talking about shoes to talk about how world domination is so easy as long as you have Catholics under you. They could take anything unusual from a speech, a conversation, easily. A great skill to technically never lie in these meetings (something they weren’t allowed to do), while still getting away with everything he had been, and is getting away with.

  
And besides, it just made them more stupid in his eyes.

  
‘Ha, as if,’ his mind supplied, ‘there’s no way that they could be the stupid one, you have to be, we can’t lie in these meetings and you get called an idiot in every one of them!’  
Keeping his smile evident on his face he sat down. Nobody ever noticed it was fake, unlike some nations who were just generally pleased with being around noise (cough Russia cough).

  
“Aww, is the stupid American getting annoyed?” Russia piped with a smirk, purple eyes narrowing like he was looking at prey.

  
“Shut it fe-commie,” America snarled, keeping himself from calling Russia federalist. It would prove that he was smart enough to remember that, and the other nations didn’t even believe that from him.

  
“Oh!” Russia exclaimed ‘happily’, a little chuckle coming from his lips, “Maybe I should, hm, bust your teeth in?”

  
His mind, his people, screamed ‘No!’, the sound of his youngest generation's fair respect (among other things) for Russia and the Russian people filling his mind. He shut it down. The old ways… they would have to leave him here.

  
‘Aw, the little homo trying to be clean? Ya right, burn in hell.’

  
The old ways kinda really suck. Well, the hood was always a good alternative. I mean, every public high school is a pretty good power source.

  
“Itching for a fight, square up mate.” America snarled, his mind urging him to pull up his sleeves, yet then everyone would see the bandaids littering them. Russia looked mildly confused, but quickly figured out the term for ‘get ready for a fight’ in American, although England looked appalled. Well, he always was, didn’t matter.

  
C’mon, control your strength… don’t break Russia’s spine, Alfred said, trying to relax his body and overflow himself with adrenaline. Being shaky was best if he didn’t want to severely damage the other.

  
“Like I would lose against a shluha like you,” the Russian replied, his eyes tinting dangerously. At the insult of being called a whore (which he didn’t even fit the definition of, he didn’t even have sex that often!) he almost lost his shit. In a fit of rage, he jumped the table to the other side, kneeing Russia right in the nose with as little force he could muster. It still almost knocked the other over, if it wasn’t for his scarf catching him. Ivan managed to land a hit square on his eye, breaking his glasses and making the American yelp and stumble back.

  
‘Eyes are important Dyami, don’t let them get hurt!’ his sister's voice filtered into his head.

  
‘Welp, broke that rule,’ Alfred thought. He could hear Germany calling the meeting over in the background as the nations left the two alone to duke it out. As the door finally shut they made their next move.

  
Both of them were extremely good at defense, not offense. They could and probably would circle each other, eyes watching for openings, for however long it took.  
Russia struck first. America wasn’t even open for an attack and blocked easily with his arm. Although his left eye was pretty thoroughly fucked up, little shards of glass protruding from the skin, but his right eye was still working fine, so why attack?

  
That was until Russia squeezed his forearms with all his might, pulling them closer and hooking his leg, sending America to the floor. He gasped as he was grasped in a tight grip, shoots of pain coming to his head in waves as his scars were (most likely) broken open.

  
He whimpered as Russia gripped him harder, his eyes faltering with unseen tears.

“Hm, sensitive wrists, da?” Russia cooed, glaring down at him.

  
“Russia, let go, let go right now,” America snarled back, the pain fading to numbness and anger. He swung his leg around and hit Russia in the foot hard enough to knock him over, the Russian catching himself, in turn letting him go. With an evil gaze, Russia looked like he was about to kill the American.

  
Russia jumped at him, grabbing him by the bomber jacket a pulling. In trained defense, he slipped the jacket off, getting ready to retaliate.

  
The other looked angry, before he… saw.

  
An assortment of band-aids covered his arms, protecting specifically large scars from infection. Little patterns made by the knife, dots, long, long lines and words made of scars were left seen.

  
America was immediately confused by the expression on Russia’s face before he remembered… oh. Oh no.

  
Quickly, he grabbed his jacket and slipped it back over his shoulders, his eyes watering. Ivan let it be taken with an awestruck expression. Why… why would America be…  
God, he didn’t even want to think of it. That little angel, his comrade during the 19th century, his enemy throughout the 20th… was suicidal? It didn’t make sense. He was happy, all the time.

  
“America?” He asked, looking to the other, who had backed up against the wall for whatever reason, gripping his arms with a cross expression, his head tilted toward the floor.  
“What?” he said, his voice wavering, “You know now. You know how weak I am. Don’t worry, I won’t tell my boss if you decide to invade.”

  
America couldn’t even tell the president if he wanted to, the president didn’t even know he existed, only the police force, and for the only reason being so that he knew who to kill. And, the police just thought he was an outside trained assassin that had a biological or orphan kid that takes up his job every 30 years or so.

  
“America,” Russia called as the others head tilted up, “You are the only one who knows what truly happened to me during the USSR, da?”

  
“Ya,” Alfred replied, “you got drugged out of your mind and it took ages to wear off, dude, you went nuts.”

  
“And you know that the drug has worn off, da?”

  
“Sometimes that's questionable,” Alfred muttered before switching to a louder tone, “But ya, 1991 technology says you have no more in your system.”

  
“Why would I invade you?” Russia asked. He could hear in his heart his people, completely fine with Americans, with the only mock request of Alaska (and their fear of homosexuals) on their minds.

  
“Um…” America muttered, “Just, don’t tell anyone okay? I’m sure that the Middle East would love that knowledge.”

  
Russia was about to ask another question but stopped himself. What should he do? He felt like he barely knew America anymore. His mind was out of sorts--  
Well, at least until America’s phone rang. America instantly dove to it, answering it faster than he had ever answered the phone before.

  
“Al, where are you?” Her voice came through, “You said you wanted me to pick you up after the meeting, yet it’s been five minutes and low and behold.”

  
“I’m coming out now,” Alfred’s voice whispered, “I got a little held up.”

  
With a sigh he hung up, and started collecting all his belongings, stuffing them into his leather bag… sack? No, it was too intricate to be a sack.

  
“Please Russia, I beg of you,” America pleaded, turning to him with his still watery eyes, if Russia didn’t know better, he would have thought he was having an anxiety attack, “Don’t tell anyone.”

  
“America, it’s been almost 30 years,” Russia finally said, watching America go to the door, “We are friends now, da?”

  
“Da,” America repeated with a weak smile, leaving extremely fast. Russia could take a guess he was being picked up by someone else, but by who?

  
He didn’t have that good of a relationship with Canada if their fights in the hallway were any indication, England and France constantly harassed him, Germany… he was on a date with Italy this afternoon, he overheard them talking about it. Japan? No… couldn’t be him, he and China were going to Los Angeles, and were flying there right after the meeting.

  
All the other country’s he thought of… none of them could be with him at the moment. Not even Lithuania, and those two were extremely close friends.  
His curiosity could lead him to something stupid, and there was no way that America was erm, dumb enough, to go with someone he didn’t trust.

  
He hoped.


	2. 2

His heels clicked on the floor as he fast-walked to the outside world, almost getting blinded by the Texas sun as he looked for her car.

The black Jag came up beside the curb, and Alfred instantly went to the backseat, strapping himself in before curling in on himself.

“You okay?” Rulyn asked from the front seat, looking at him through the mirror, green eyes seemingly emotionless as she studied him, eyes narrowing as they saw his messed up eye. Alfred could only bring himself to whine in response, covering his ears. He felt overwhelmed. She grabbed his bag, knowing full well that there were knives and other items in it, before motioning for him to hand over his jacket. He loved it dearly, and she knew it, but there was a gun in the inside pocket. He handed it to her, and she folded it before placing it on the passenger seat.

With a final sigh, she turned on the radio, calming melodies flowing through the speakers before she started driving.

It took about ten uncomfortable minutes for them to get to their hotel. Rulyn gave him one of the key cards and he went ahead of her, basically running to their room on the second floor (it was a small hotel), and immediately going into the bathroom. It was stark silent, but at least it was secluded.

He could hear the click of the room's door opening and closing as she came into the room. He could hear her shuffling around, doing whatever she was doing, and it made him uncomfortable.

There was a tiny little plop before the sound of a piano broke the silence, and a bar of chocolate was slid under the door. He could barely bring himself to look at it. They already thought he was fat… he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t. 

‘How much did he weigh now…’ he asked himself, standing up and looking for the weight thing, most likely kept under the sink… where was it? It was there this morning… Ru must have moved it, damn.

Pulling on his loose t-shirt, he was thankful that Russia had only seen his arms, although they were still heavy as well, and not the rest of his body. His other self-harm scars, how fat he was, and… ‘war wounds’ recent injuries done by... humans. He was so weak he got hurt by measly little humans!

His… his eye. Reaching up, he gently prodded the almost pure black bruise, wincing as he did so. He tried to see if he could find the tweezers in either of their bags before one came from under the door.

Oh c’mon Ru, it wasn't even that sharp…

Slowly, he removed the glass from around his eyes, placing his shattered glasses on the counter. He didn’t need them to see, they were honestly just for decor. Grabbing some of the wound-glue from Rulyn’s first aid kit, he started mending his wounds, being careful to shut them really tight.

It was only so long before it was done, and he threw his glasses out under the sink. Ru wouldn’t be too happy about buying new ones… then again he did get a few K’s for last night.

He… he felt lonely now. 

Placing the chocolate on the sink like it was radioactive he walked out of the bathroom, picking up her phone along the way and turning the music off.

“What happened?” She asked from her spot on the other bed, papers surrounding her as she calculated the costs for this month. Their money was dwindling in several of their credit card accounts because of the rising costs in their area, not to mention the government taxing government officers more so that they could afford more bombs. 

“Russia…” he muttered, sitting on the opposite bed as she looked over with a raised brow.

“Saw your scars?”

“Yes… do you think he’ll tell anyone?” Alfred asked, her laughing a little with a smile.

“He’s Russia, if he listens more to his people like you do, there won’t be much of an issue,” Rulyn explained, “besides, Russians are weird about suicide, they feel uncomfortable about it, at least in my experience. Definitely wouldn’t use it against someone.”

“Thanks,” Alfred muttered. He wanted to ask her where the weight thing was, but she’d probably force him to go down to the deli for food.

“Eat chocolate?” Goddammit.

“No, I’m not that hungry,” Alfred said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. She saw right through his lie though. There was no point.

“Al, chocolate doesn’t make you full,” she stated, a pierced eyebrow-raising as she looked to him, unamused. She ran a hand through the longer portion of her short hair, the part that covered her eye, before telling him to do exactly what he thought she would:

“Go get something from the deli, you’re hungry.”

“No, I’m not!” Alfred exclaimed a little to fast.

“If you weren’t hungry you wouldn’t be thinking about your stomach and your weight,” Rulyn explained in her unusually calm way, “c’mon, I’ll come with you.”

“I’m not a child!” Alfred snapped, worry seeping into his words.

“I know you’re not, but your sick,” Rulyn said carefully, “A sickness nobody can see, yet still a sickness.”

Fighting was no use against her, and he was forced to give in. Rolling off the bed, he followed her out the door.

They got to the deli and ordered their food, both getting considerably little, although he knew why. She didn’t need to lose weight, she was perfect the way she was! Why did she have to torture herself by only eating the same amount as him?

“Ru…” he muttered angrily, giving her a half glare as she smirked. She was completely unaffected by his anger, probably didn’t even care (that wasn’t even a probably!), what the hell!

“Shush,” she cooed, “I’m not hungry, ate before you got out.”

That was a lie. That was such an obvious lie. The car or the room would have smelled like food if it was true- oh. Is that how obvious his lies were?

The waitress served their food, glancing at them -probably to see if they were a couple- before she spotted the lesbian flag bracelet Ru was wearing and walked off with a pout.

“So, what was your conversation with Russia like,” Rulyn asked, picking at her food with her fork, “must have been odd to you if it made you uncomfortable enough to have an anxiety attack.”

“Uh… hard to explain.” Alfred started, “We started fighting, well, more like wrestling, and he broke open some of my scars, I hit him pretty hard, and he pulled my jacket off.”

“Did you clean your cuts?” Rulyn asked. He was in the bathroom for a fair amount of time.

“No, I’ll do it later,” Alfred replied before continuing, “he got pretty weird about it, stopped being aggressive immediately. Looked, I dunno how to explain it, scared? I don’t really remember the rest of it, but I know you called me.”

“Lucky you didn’t collapse there,” Rulyn said, picking at her nose piercing, “Russia would have probably taken you with him.”

“You’re joking… right?”

“Nope,” Rulyn chuckled, “Russians, unlike Americans, help people in need. You know how in America a middle-aged person could fall over, but they get really offended when you try to help them?”

“Ya.”

“Not the case in Russia, there it’s courtesy,” Rulyn stated, watching as Alfred’s expression shifted to shock and worry.

“That’s… that’s why Vegas is like that…” he muttered as she laughed.

“Not to mention the Italians there,” Ru joked, him laughing in response. It was silent for a few minutes as they ate.

“We going home tonight?” Alfred asked, running his hand through his hair.

“Nah, I had too much coffee today, I don’t want to pass out of the way there. Besides, I want to finish our money situation before going near little kids again,” Rulyn explained, searching her pocket for her credit card as she spoke, her plate empty in front of her, “I don’t want to buy three bottles of cheap migraine pills.”

“Aww, what’s wrong? Mariana getting on your nerves?” he cooed, his mood lifting.

“You have no idea, the kid wants to know why her older sibs keep saying that their dad went to go get milk,” Rulyn complained as Alfred winced, “but don’t worry Alfie, you’re the best mother those kids could ask for.”

He could admit he missed his little ones, and not so little ones. Not to mention his siblings, and his other immortal and mortal workers like Rulyn. The immortal workers… the ones that literally gave their souls to him. Jesus, why did they trust him so much?

And Ru was one of them!

Leaving the table, she paid at the counter before both of them left, heading back up to their hotel room for the last night. Rulyn went back to her charts before seeming to remember something and pulling out her laptop.

“Which color, black?” she asked, scrolling through what she was looking at, “For your glasses?”

“And metal frames, they might not break as much,” Alfred replied, “If they aren’t tremendously expensive of course.”

“You're fine,” Rulyn said with a chuckle, “I have a discount… with ~honey~”

“Oh my god, a discount with honey.” (I have this odd feeling only Americans will know what voice to read that in) America joked the other snorting in response. 

There was the clicking of Ru ordering the glasses before she shut her computer and looked over the papers surrounding her.

“We need to sell Lillin,” she said, looking over the amount they’ve made this month, “She’s old enough now.”

“Aw, I like that horse,” Alfred said, remembering how the white filly would jump around him with no fear.

“Ya, well we need more meat for the gators, we’re almost an entire cow off from what all our exotics need to eat next month,” Rulyn sighed, seeing the confused look on Alfred’s face, “Bessle had a miscarriage.”

“Oh,” Alfred piped, “well, she has been getting older, not really a surprise.”

“Think we should butcher her?” Rulyn asked, “Sami said her liver has been getting worse, and I don’t want her to go through that pain.”

“Before it fails ya,” Alfred agreed, “it would hurt her too much.”

“I’ll make sure to tell them,” Ru replied, grabbing her phone, opening Semaphor and texting the others. “You can go to sleep, you were up all night.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Alfred muttered, listening to the sound of Ru flipping papers as he fell into a restless sleep.


	3. 3

‘Nononononono’ Alfred thought. He could feel tears pricking at his eyes as he listened to it. All the countries harassing him, over, and over, and over. What hurt the most though, was when Russia started taunting him, stepping closer with each word until he grabbed him by the neck. All he could do was scream before--

Something was shaking him.

Cold sweat dripped from his forehead. He was panting, and his legs hurt. It was a dream.

He looked to his side to find Rulyn, looking at him with an unreadable expression. She checked his temperature before digging through her back for the stethoscope, checking his heartbeat quickly to make sure he didn’t faint or something.

“Was I screaming again?” Alfred asked as she threw it back to his bag.

“Yes, and running,” she replied, before going back into her bag and grabbing another chocolate bar, handing it to him. He took it without complaint and started eating it. “We still have four hours until we need to wake up, go back to sleep.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He woke up first. Looking around, he started packing their stuff back up before stealing the bathroom shampoo and throwing that into Ru’s suitcase. By now it's been four days since he's been home, and he honestly missed his little monsters.

After about half an hour Rulyn woke up, brushed her hair out with her fingers, changed, and they got ready to leave.

“They said we have to be out by seven,” Rulyn said, “what time is it now?”

“Six fifty,” Alfred replied, swerving his suitcase as he left the room, key cards in his hand to return them. She followed behind him, footsteps muffled by the carpet that covered the entire hotel. The two dropped their key cards off by the tired-looking brunette at the counter and left, packing their stuff up in the car and leaving.

“I might have to get gas a few times, the fourteen-hour drive is getting turned into seven,” Rulyn sighed, gripping the wheel, “we get food at eleven.”

“Okay,” Alfred answered, an unwilling edge to his voice, “what are we eating?”

“Whatever we can find that's fast and not fast food,” Ru confirmed, “I can’t physically eat another burger or chicken nuggets.”

“Agreed,” the blond replied, looking to his companion out of the corner of his eye, “Are any of our accounts depleting?”

“All of them are getting taxed, and all of them are depleting,” Rulyn grunted, grumbling out something obscene in Russian before continuing, “why can’t we just get left alone? Jesus, it’s like that time York got arrested. No, it wasn’t drugs, it was actual sugar!”

“I mean, it was all in baggies,” Alfred chuckled, “I can see where they got it.”

“That’s how you store sugar if you don’t want ants!” Rulyn exclaimed, banging her head on the steering wheel before paying attention to the road again.

They drove out of town before Rulyn swerved off the road, taking a direct route and going almost 300 miles per hour. The two made casual discussion until it was time to pick up lunch, in which they drove into the nearest town and found a Japanese place, getting teriyaki before driving off once again, Rulyn still casually going straight instead of bothering with roads. The Jaguar had wheels that could withstand a volcano anyways, so it was fine.

By one-thirty, they were in Ohio, heading to the southwest portion were the family house was.

At two, they were driving into the valley that he owned, the mountains that protected them from prying eyes and kept them safe surrounding him as they had for over two hundred years. The two drove through the trees before they cleared into fields. Grazing sheep stood out far over, multiple dogs running around, defending them and keeping them together.

As they got closer, one of the wolf packs and one of the cheetahs ran along with the car, curious as to who was inside it, both eventually giving up and falling back. 

It only took so long before the houses were in view. Two large mansions built tall and connected by a large garden in the center. The mansion on the right was the largest though, seven stories. It dwarfed the other, which was only four. They sat pressed as close to the mountains as one would wish, and both were both painted a light white with a grey base, black accents along with the windows, and the main door of the larger. 

The family garage was built into the mountain on the right, only the disguised door in the open. The cars held most of their cash, especially their racing cars, and needed to be safe.

As the garage was clicked open, there was the signature sound of happy children. As they pulled in, passing the rows of trucks, tractors, and normal, cheaper cars that got kept in the front, they saw two territories, Palmyra and Nevassa, following the car to greet Al when he came out. As Rulyn pulled the car into its parking space Alfred basically jumped out of the car, his daughters embracing him in a hug.

The seven and six-year-old were happy to tell him all the hijinks the y got on with, including almost getting bitten by one of the anacondas (he seemed livid about that) before they went off about something else. Rulyn grabbed the trash from the front seat and kicked it into their sewer before talking the suitcases from the trunk, locking the car before hanging the keys on the hook in front of the parking space. By the time she turned back around, Alfred was waiting for her with Palmyra sitting on his shoulders, laughing at Nevassa, who was circling around him on the ground.

The group walked to the hallway that connected the garage to the main house, the adults making idle chatter as they did. At the hallways frame stood a teen, the oldest.

“Mom!” Delaware exclaimed running up to him, and hugging him, “I missed you.”

“I know Del,” Alfred replied, ruffling his son's hair, “but I’ve been gone for longer.”

“I still missed you,” the teen pouted, before letting him go, “I’m going to go tell the others your back!”

Alfred chuckled as the boy ran off. As they got into the house Rulyn was instantly glomped by her dog, Odele, and Arizona set off a firework, almost setting Hawaii’s dress on fire -which Alaska got revenge for- and all-in-all, a normal fuckin day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later~

It had started out to be a calm day. The Russian Blue, Anya, had had her kittens early this morning, her second litter. The meat cows were getting butchered tomorrow, and the pigs after, and the chickens and turkeys after, so really everyone was resting today while they still could.

At least, until a private call for Washington DC was intercepted. Sami was the one who ended up picking up the old retro phone, before coughing to switch her voice.

“Hello?” the unmistakable voice of Russia’s boss came through, “I would like to speak to your Director of Nation, concerning a missing person.”

It was code for personification, and the supposed ‘Director of Nation’ that didn’t actually exist was just someone the other country leaders thought that America had so that they didn’t call the President or White House in general. They never did private calls for missing people anyway. Samuel grunted for a quick second, internally switching his voice into his Director's voice before Sami handed the phone to him.

“Yes?” he said, his voice sounding more snobby and ill-intended than it actually ever did, “What do you need?”

“I request a peace,” he said, “we do something to allow our personifications to get along better. I suppose a house- it can be in America, that we use to force them to get along. It will be a good experience anyhow, and promote less hostility in the future, hmm?”

“Why would they need to get along better?” Samuel tested, trying to get him out of this situation like a parent would their introverted child, “They get along fine.”

“Sir, I insist, before I contact your President and ask him,” the Russian countered, unpleased, “of course, you could just tell me upfront, make things take less time.”

With nothing else to do, he looked between the three voters, who were all still with anticipation. Before Rulyn started nodding yes, Sami following her example, and Alfred rapidly shaking his head no- then yes- before just curling up on his spot on the couch and giving up.

“How long?” Samuel asked as the two girls went to go comfort Alfred.

“Three weeks should suffice, no?”

Gazing at his voters, both of the girls shrugged, while Alfred sunk deeper into the couch cushions.

“Alright, and in America?”

“Yes,” Russia’s boss replied, a more pleased tone getting drawn from him, “how about your personification picks mine up from your nearest airport, then takes him to his house, yes?”

“The nearest airport to my own is the Greater Portsmouth Regional, Ohio,” Samuel acknowledged, “the home he is currently at is there. I guess we got a deal?”

“Deal.” the Russian confirmed, the line going quiet.

To tell the truth, everyone was lost. Especially Alfred, who was so lost he had a panic attack. Their eyes darted around trying to make sense of the call. Sure, America was drawing out of its pacts to become isolationist again, and sure it was scary for other countries, but shacking up the two most powerful nations didn’t seem like such a bright idea, especially when one was prone to mood swings and spent most of his time trying to stay away from other nations. Cough, the one sitting in front of them, who had gone from yelling at the creeps Mr. Atheist was reacting to, to crying like a newborn.

“Take Hero,” Rulyn told him, patting his back, “see if Russia has any pets that he’ll bring. I’ll go looking for a house in the woods to rent for three weeks.”

“He has a cat, that’s all,” Alfred muttered, “he’ll bring Lampushka with him. He knows I like animals.”

“Good, at least you know each other,” Rulyn gave one of her rare smiles, “it’ll be okay. You’ll get a friend.”

Friend. That word hadn’t been used to describe Russia since- since the cowboy days… when he could hang out with Russia in his south and have a break from the kids for a day. They would see the sunflowers, rope bulls, and smoke (well, he smoked, Russia wasn’t the type) and they could just… chill, with hardcore lesbians, girls, and the gays. At least until permanent settlements took over, and in turn, Christianity… homophobia…


	4. 4

This was definitely a day to wake up early. He had to pick up Russia today. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was 4 am. Russia texted him that he was landing at one.

With a sigh, he got prepared for the day, throwing on some worn ripped jeans and a button-up before going and looking through all the stuff on his sink that he never wore. 

Earrings, necklaces, pride makeup, normal makeup, and latex for Halloween. Grabbing some earrings he put them on, cringing a bit at the cold metal.

‘Hello,’ Hero purred, running into the bathroom and rubbing against his leg. Her sleepy eyes looked up at him, studying him, in their own catty way.

“Hey baby,” he cooed to her, petting behind her ears, “we’re leaving today, you’re gonna get a new kitty friend.”

‘Friend?’ Hero purred in response, tilting her head. Unlike most of the cats on the property, she wasn’t in a clowder, like some of the other, immortal cats that had been chosen, and the clowders didn’t like her much because of it. She was alone beside the other four immortalized cats that Alfred’s immortal servants had. Meowing happily, she ran off, probably to go bother the aforementioned cats.

Checking himself in the mirror one last time, he left his room, almost tripping over one of the Roomba's that had gotten stuck under his door, the bot beeped before going on its way.

It was early, and dark in the hallways. Walking to the elevator room he got in the first one that opened and clicked the button to the first floor, an Akita slipping in with him, sitting beside him as he tried to remember where he put his bag. 

This was a large property, with almost two thousand animals making themselves at home, and all of them were monitored in a different way from most breeders or zoos. Because there were too many to remember them all by name, every animal besides small rodents got collars with an electrical chip, and every person on the property got a metal stick, that when connected to the chip, listed the animals' name, gender, age, what it does exactly, and breed. The stick was connected to an electronic database that let them know what animals they had, and the chip also worked as a tracker. The only issue was, it didn’t work when you didn’t have the stick with you, and he had a tendency to forget where he put it. Unlike most of his workers, which just tied it around their neck with a string and went about their business.

Also, because most of the animals were only in their cages at night, and losing a tiger in the surrounding woods would be bad.

“What’s your name?” he asked the animal beside him, the creature looking up to him, its ears flipped up.

‘Hiraku’ the dog supplied, shaking out his brown and white fur before sitting back down and scratching his ear, ‘I always forget that you can whisper.’

“Many do bud,” Alfred laughed, scratching Hiraku behind the ears as the elevator stopped, the dog barking at him and running off. The first floor was the largest, with the dining hall, theater, indoor amphitheater, and also where the reptiles and rodents are kept during the night. 

Going to a breakroom sort of room, he got himself a cup of coffee so that death did not overcome him in waves of fatigue that is impossible to catch until it is too late. He finished three cups before leaving, putting the coffee cup into the dishwasher system: a system of rubber cushioned tunnels that ran throughout the first and second floor, there to collect all the dishes and bring them to the automatic dishwasher, a machine in the electrical room.

Walking into the animal's section of the first floor, he went through, looking into the glass of the specially made cages. In the corner of one of the dark cages, one of the komodo dragon cages, he saw movement and meandered over, shoulders tilted down as he looked to the cage. The komodo, walked up to the glass, and, being one of the animals that got to come out during the day, pushed open the door to the cage and walked out, down the dog stairs to the ground. The komodo, which a little plaque said was Mr. Venom Boy, came right up to him. The creature was about the size of an alligator, yet he knew not to be scared.

“How are you doing Mr. Venom?” Alfred asked the lizard, petting its head.

‘Food, gimme,’ Mr. Venom Boy responded, hitting his tail against the wall, and shaking his head, removing the tiredness from him. His tongue flicked in and out in an irritated fashion.

“Bodaway will feed you today, later, we’re getting the food today,” Alfred said to the lizard, sitting beside it and fingering his collar. Mr. Venom Boy flopped over and rolled on the ground, scratching his back like an excited dog before chilling on his back.

‘How long?’ the komodo looked over to him, the black eyes glistening in the pale light coming through a window.

“Noon, you can wait, can’t you?” Alfred questions, leaning against the wall and letting his eyes flicker shut.

‘Fine, but I better get my food,’ the komodo hissed, looking up to his cage before deciding against it and going out a doggy door connecting this room to the outside, banging his tail on the floor one last time, a Nile monitor sticking its head out just to hiss at the komodo.

It was quiet again, just the occasional sound of splashing coming from the snapping turtle cage.

After a few minutes, Hiraku slipped into the room, a bag in his mouth. Alfred was surprised to see that it was his supply bag. The Akita dropped it beside the nation before licking his face and walking off, tail high as he went back outside.

Going through his bag he also noted that his phone, his house keys, his stick, his electric notepad, and his iPad had been left in the mini backpack. Great responsibility Jones. Great responsibility.

Clicking his phone on, he realized that it was almost five and that Ru, Sami, and Lani would be getting up to make breakfast soon. Getting up from his spot on the floor, he wandered to the kitchen, running into Lani on the way.

“You’re up early,” the Hawaiian said as he was about to sneak up on her. She had a sixth sense about stuff like that, and it was freaky in its element: the dark.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, coming up to her side, “to… ‘excited’.”

“Get laid, it’ll make you feel better,” Lani advised as they pushed into the kitchen, the doors swinging behind them.

“That’s some form of advice, but I’m not sure if it’s good,” Alfred countered, his eyebrows crunching, “besides, I don’t even know if he’s a butt guy.”

“He’s over six foot and doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s a butt guy,” Lani said like it was so obvious as she scattered to the other side of the kitchen. It was huge and mostly automated so that they didn’t overwork themselves feeding the hundred or so people that lived there. Clicking a few buttons, the machines in the ceiling started working, the ingredients for bread appearing from seemingly nowhere as the AI set to work.

“That’s only the rule for America, Russia’s probably different-”

“I have no idea what you're talking about but the rules for America and Russia are only different when concerning drugs and mental illness,” Rulyn said, coming into the kitchen from a side door, dragging along a cart full of eggs into the room.

“Ha, so Russia is gay!” Lani exclaimed, smirking as she flicked on the lights, everyone in the room winced as their eyes were assaulted.

“Oh… that was already obvious…” Rulyn stated, rubbing her eyes before turning on a sorting machine, getting to work splitting the good eggs from the bad as the other girl laughed. Alfred just blushed, gripping his hands behind his back awkwardly.

It was only so long before Sami stumbled in, groaning about iced tea, Rulyn giving her an already prepared glass.

The four prepared breakfast, a conveyor belt transporting the food over to the deli in the dining hall so that people could get it. Some really fat potatoes got turned into a hash, pork meat was minced for a scramble, the cheese got grated, and the yogurt that had been chilling in the fridge was taken out. Also scattered among that: four different types of bread, waffles, pancakes, and fruit.

“Mama!” A voice broke through the noise at five minutes to six, startling the four in the kitchen, Hawaii, “Can I sound the wake-up alarm, can I? Can I? Can I?”

“Wait five minutes then go ahead, you know how to do it,” Alfred said to his daughter, the girl bouncing on her feet in her excitement before bolting out the door, the smile turned sinister.

“Poor Cali,” Sami whimpered, venom dripping off her tongue, “cut off her beauty sleep again.”

“I’m afraid Nevada and Washington with team up to destroy her if she says that again,” Alfred joked, remembering the pissy faces of his sons as California whined over her complexion. 

She wasn’t like that before, he recalled, a guy in a nearby town called her hideous and told her to ‘cover up her face and to lose some weight’ and she took it to heart. Samuel -being the doctor on sight- was terrified when she was rolled in on one of their medical stretchers after not eating anything for four days, and Alfred wanted to cry. Rulyn gave her a talking to, in which she made her cry, but all in all, Cali got healthier besides the wounds that couldn’t heal that fast.

At exactly six, he could hear the wake-up alarms ringing through both mansions, as the last of the food was placed on the belt to be set out.

The group cleaned up before heading to the dining hall, the normal silence in the early morning comforting, although it wouldn’t stay that way. It wasn’t long before everyone or everyone that cared to eat as a group gathered. Today they even had a demon guest, a plant demon with antlers and large, striking green eyes. It wasn’t unusual for this house.  
Seeing the entire household at once could be overwhelming, but it was oddly comforting to him. 

Looking around, he gazed at his children before his eyes landed on Alaska. She looked like a female version of Russia, besides the baby blue eyes, and his nose, that she sported. Looking between his children, he could see the ones that had Russia’s features. Washington and Oregon, twins, had a mix between the two of their skin tones. Nevada had his eyes. Jersey, Alaska, California, York, and the Dakota twins had his aura. He had honestly never noticed those little details before, and with the time crunch to when he was meeting Russia it seriously freaked him out.

“Deep breath, in and out,” Rulyn cooed, sneaking up behind him and putting a plate down in front of him, “you can do it.”

“Hey, no teasing, I’m nervous,” Alfred said, swatting her away, “what did Russia tell his boss that his boss would pull a stunt like this?”

“Dunno, have fun finding out, I have to go to an animal festival today to sell some of the dogs, cats, snakes and lizards and such,” Rulyn explained, gesturing over to Samuel, Sami, and Lani as a way of saying ‘they’re coming with me’, “I also got your ‘home’ here’s the address,” she handed him a piece of paper continuing down her mental list, “Cole is getting you groceries and preparing the house, be prepared for a mess, Bodaway and Conner will be in charge while we are gone, Destiny is dropping Hero off at eleven-thirty.”

“Do I really have to go?” Alfred asked, pulling on her sleeve.

“Yes, you can rest for the day until you need to pick Russia up, or go with Cole and get used to the house, remember, you’re supposed to know it.”

“I’ll go with him,” Alfred sighed, picking at his food, “try to see if you can sell Lillin.”

“I will,” she nodded, walking away to go organize her day with the trio she had pointed to. They normally split, two doing the mammals and two doing the reptiles so that it seemed more separated, and he also knew they were flying the passenger plane to Miami for this, so they had to be organized. And catch the puppies, kitties, and other things they were selling. All he really knew of the money they could get today, was that Black Russian Terrier puppies sold in the USofA for $2500, and that they had nine.

Breakfast passed fast, an occasional child coming up to him for a hug before running off, and Mariana getting seated on his lap for about five minutes before she got bored and ran off with her brothers, Wake, and Baker.

It was only so long before he saw Cole trying to leave and followed him, the other golden blond turning on his heel to face him. The two actually looked a lot alike, glasses and all, besides Cole’s square jaw and lack of cowlick. The two could actually pass as siblings if Confederacy, or Conner, wasn’t around. Alfred and Conner looked and acted like siblings, even though they weren’t exact replicas of each other. Conner had red eyes, didn’t need glasses, and had no cowlick, not to mention he was by a few inches, passing six foot like most of Alfred’s family, besides him.

“Coming to join the action?” Cole asked, the two heading in the direction of the garage.

“Do you even have a grocery list?” 

“YES, Rulyn sent me one,” Cole said, exasperated, the other laughing.

The two grabbed two separate cars and went on their way, going into town and to the supermarket, grabbing everything on the list before having to make an extra stop at Ross for like… twenty throw blankets for the mansions and two for Alfred’s ‘house’. They just grabbed the blue and beige ones for the mansion. That would make Ru happy. Before Alfred carefully chose two throws for his ‘house’. He needed to make sure they would match, and most of the house (from the pictures that Rulyn had once again sent) was a deep brown, so, he obviously chose a navy blanket with white speckles and a brown and beige striped one.

“Won’t that look weird?” Cole asked, coming upon him, throwing the last of the blue throws into the basket. Alfred shook his head, his inner designer working wonders for him. “Alright then, you’re the gay.”

The two checked out before driving to the house, a little desolate place that Rulyn found for really cheap because nobody wanted to rent it. It wasn’t near a lake or anything, just a fully functioning house in a small wooded area. Pulling up to the driveway, the two got their acts together. Cole going suburban white dad and taking stuff out of the car and Alfred making sure everything was in its place, cutting open boxes of plates and stacking them in cabinets, cups, silverware, glasses, napkins, trash bags, cat food, people food. Everything had a place. Destiny dropped off Hero, an automatic litter box and litter, an automatic water dispenser, and two cat food bowls, and a pre-packed suitcase full of everything he’d need. Clothes. 

It was only so long before twelve rolled around. And by then, the house was complete. Alfred learned every nook and cranny and figured out how the showers worked before the two parted ways, Cole taking a car to get gas, and then go home, and Alfred taking the other car to the airport to get Russia.

As he scanned the terminal where he thought Russia would be, he was surprised by a hand getting placed on his shoulder. The signature chuckling eased his nerves, and he spun around to face the other. Gently his chin was eased up, and a kiss planted. It was just how Russia was, although he noticed that he only ever greeted countries he was close to like that. The Russian pulled away, and America was allowed to see him. Black sweater, jeans, scarf. Normal Russia clothes.

“Haha, gay!” a teen yelled drawing the attention of his friends as he pointed to the two countries.

“Shut it, Kyle,” America said without skipping a beat, “no one cares that you can’t get pussy or ass.”

His friends rioted. Russia was confused. Kyle looked depressed.

“Let us go to the home of the Prince of Having A Better Ass Than You,” America said, bowing to Russia and walking off, Russia following, even more confused than before. Lampushka meowed from his kennel, sharing his confusion.

The two got into America’s car, Russia letting his cat out and keeping Lampushka on his lap as the American drove.

The two made idle chatter on their trek until America pulled into the driveway of his house and the two got out, America taking Lampushka and Russia wheeling his suitcase in.  
America almost wanted to laugh at the look Russia gave his house. It was awe like he expected it to be a pigsty. Then again, wouldn’t be surprising, yet he only really kept his ‘important political papers’ aka bills in such a disorderly fashion.

Lampushka jumped out of his arms when Hero came into view, the two circling each other for a few seconds to see if they liked each other before running off together, Lampushka following Hero.

America slipped his shoes off and placed them by the door, a few other pairs of his shoes had been piled along the entryway. Russia took this as the time to toe-off his own, placing them on the other side of the entryway, leaving his suitcase in the doorway as he looked around the living room, America studying him with careful eyes.

It was only so long before Russia sat down on the couch, gazing at the empty fireplace. It was a cool summer day, yet the fire would not be lit for another few months.

It was calm before America death-walked toward the Russian. He had a question, and his mood had shifted but what did that matter.

“What do you really want, Russia?” America sneered, straddling the Russian and pressing his hands beside his head, “Why are you here?”

“America... “ Russia blushed, trying to sink more into the couch, “what… are you doing?”

“Answer my damn question.” the American said, spreading his knees and sinking his crotch lower, reveling in the way the other shrunk back more. Russia pressed his hands against the chest of his assailant, curling his fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

“I don’t know okay!” Russia exclaimed, pushing the other, America catching himself on his hands and pushing himself back to his feet, “What were you doing?!” 

“Scaring you into telling me the truth,” America chuckled, ruffling Russia’s hair as the other stared up at him blankly.

“Aren’t you… ill?” Russia pressured, standing up and towering over the other, “What's gotten into you?”

“This is my terms now,” America growled, “and seeing as you obviously told your boss, you broke our agreement. You know by now, I don’t take that lightly.”

Turning on his heel, America left, leaving a dumbfounded Russia behind. Of course, he would think that, Russia reasoned, Belarus told his boss about the fight and he got mad, pressuring them into staying in this cabin. He remembered his boss muttering about how the American personification seemed to off nowadays, and how he seemed to have mood swings now, was this one?

On the plane ride, he had decided to look and see if Americans had any tricks to help people with anxiety, and got… concerned when he realized that there is a lot of it.  
It was only then that he found out about the Depression Epidemic in America for people ages 14-26. To the extent that it was… well, it was scary. A 25% or more self-harm rate for an average public high school seemed obscene, yet there it was.

One thing he recalled though, was not to let depressed people run off, and that it usually ended badly.

Following in the American's footsteps, he came to the bathroom, where the sound of sobs rang from under the door. Surely America didn’t have a weapon that he could injure himself with.

Testing the knob, he found it unlocked, and walked in. America was sitting on the edge of the tub, a blank stare on his face, tears rolling down his cheeks, and three long lines from his own fingernails coating his right arm. The bandaids on that arm were completely torn up from were his fingers had crossed them, and there was a lot more plasma and blood than he expected.

Walking up the the American, he picked him up, causing the American to yelp and stop his dissolution. America hit his chest hard with the blunt of his palm before going back into dissolution mode, smacking his face against his sweater and staying there.

“You want the truth little American?” Russia cooed, seeing the shift of America’s eyes as he looked at him, “I want to help you, now more than ever. Those other countries will never hurt you again, angel.”

The American blushed before going back to try and smother himself in Russia’s sweater.

“I’d like that.”


	5. 5

Yawning, Alfred sat up in his bed, stretching his arms over his head, wincing as his shoulder popped.

Looking around, he tried to figure out where he was before he realized.

Uhhhhh introvert wants to go hooooome.

Pushing himself out of bed, he tried to find his glasses, eventually seeing them on his desk. He put them on be, going into his bathroom and self-caring for about five minutes and cleaning his cuts. Leaving the bathroom, he looked into his closet. It wasn’t all that cold anymore, but scars needed to be covered. Putting on some black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a thin black cotton jacket, he deemed himself acceptable and walked out.

He ignored Russia when he saw him. Coffee came first. 

“Dobroe utro America,” Russia said, breaking the silence as America stared ominously at the coffee machine before it started beeping, America instantly pouring himself a cup of coffee instead of answering. He downed it in about three gulps before pouring himself another.

“America, that’s a strong type of coffee,” Russia said, coming up behind him, a worried expression, “you’ll get sick or worse if you drink too much.”

“I’m fine,” America grunted, drinking his second cup and pouring himself a third, “there’s a caffeinated drink called ‘Collage is Hell’ and I’ve had it multiple times.”

“Uh? That wasn’t my point,” Russia replied, “and what even is this drink?”

“Um… six cups Turkish coffee, eight caffine pills, two bottles of coke,” (I’LL SAY IT RN, NEVER EVER DRINK THIS) America said, seeming to try to remember the recipe, “reduced 75% and then three cups of sugar.”

“... why would you drink that?”

“First time, ‘cause I needed to get stuff done,” America grimaced, seeming to remember bad memories, “second, I wanted to feel high and was out of weed, and third and fourth time cause I wanted to die.”

“Please… don’t drink it again.” Russia said as America drank his last cup, placing it in the sink and soaking it. Alfred wasn’t even allowed to drink it again, so it didn’t matter.  
“Who’s stopping me?” America tested, wanting to see Russia’s reaction. 

“Me,” Russia countered, trapping America in the corner of the kitchen, “Don’t drink it again.”

“Fine puppy, I won’t,” America teased, running a hand along what little of Russia’s neck was exposed, the other tensing. With ease, he slipped by, jumping on the couch and clicking the news on.

“This just in, a neo-nazi has rammed his car into anti-racist protesters in Charlottesville, Virginia, it is unknown who died or how many deaths in the crash-”

America looked ...unamused… to say the least.

“I’m sorry,” Russia said, leaning on the back of the sofa near America’s head.

“Huh?” America whipped around, “Oh, I’m not sad, it’s just that this happens a lot, most of the time with guns. More annoyed, actually.”

“This happens a lot?” Russia asked, surprised. America took a quick second to laugh before answering.

“Most of America’s news isn’t even available in the EU, NATO, or anything like that. Mostly the good stuff or the really, really bad stuff is shown.”

“Chto? E…” Russia tried, getting tongue-tied.

“Heh, my actual news is more like ‘Man gets gored by bull while out car shopping’, ‘Some frat boys got an illness where their piss turns blue’, ‘Gang is still hunting man in witness protection’, ‘New York Man arrested for cutting wires to Red Light Cameras after exposing Government Revenue generating scheme’, and ‘Kid kidnapped by local residents and tortured in a house around the corner.’” America started laughing harder at the look on Russia’s face before continuing, “‘Inbreeding cult found in Kentucky with blue skin’, ‘two twelve-year-old girls attempt to kill their friend, blame Slenderman’-” 

(A.N. all of these are real, although I’m not sure if the frat boys made the news. They were on TV though.)

“I get it, but what the fuck,” Russia interrupted, “America, what is wrong with your country?”

“Alfred,” the American replied, “My name's Alfred, not America. Although I’m sure you know, Ivan.”

“How do you know my name?” Ivan asked, startled.

“Lucky guess,” Alfred replied, turning on the Disney Channel. He was used to it, and at least it gave background noise. And besides… Ivan was VERY Russian, at least to him.  
“Luck?” Ivan asked once more, obviously not knowing what it meant. Grabbing his phone from the table, Alfred opened Google Translate and typed it in. He had to make it seem like he only knew English. God, he’d already slipped up in a meeting when he said that he knew Spain and Mexico were talking about him. In Spanish.

“Udacha,” he repeated, showing Ivan his screen, “lucky guess means…” he pretended to type it in, “udachno predlozheniya.”

“Oh.” Russia said as America started humming to the tunes. He obviously knew them.

At this point, America was hungry, but he didn’t want to think about it. He was uncomfortable eating (unless he was gonna vomit it) around people who weren’t family, or like family to him. Maybe because somewhere deep inside he knew for a fact that his family would kick his ass if he didn’t eat enough, or just because of his old ways.

Russia’s phone rang, and he left the room, saying it was his boss. He was about to relax, now that the Russian was out of the room, until his phone rang. He picked it up and checked.

It was Donasan, also known as Noah. The personification of Roanoke.

“Yo, little bro,” Alfred said in Cherokee, his little brother laughing on the line.

“Dyami you’ll never guess!” Donasan exclaimed, “Me and big sis Alameda found it!”

“The winged deer...?” Alfred asked, “And you caught it?”

“Yep, now bask in my glory!”

“You’ve almost gotten as egotistical as Tahmelapachme,” the blond responded, recalling Conner’s ego outbursts, “down puppy. Rope a chimera then we’ll talk.”

“No way! It’s your job to get bitten by snakes!” he yelled from the other side, “We’re flying home today, we ended up in Latvia chasing the thing.”

“Be safe, love you,” Alfred said, about to hang up.

“Wait, Alameda wants to talk to you!” Noah said, handing the phone over to their big sister, Croatoan.

“Can you make sure we have somewhere to put this thing?” she said as there was the sound of an angry deer and flapping from the background.

“Can’t, I’m currently on business for a few weeks. Cole and Bodaway are in charge, you have to ask them. All the other immortalized are in Seattle for a sale festival. I’m sure one of the de Veaux kids will be happy to put together a cage.”

“Again?” she asked, sadness evident in her voice, “Nevermind- I’ll call them.”

She hung up, not giving him the chance to say goodbye.

“What was that call about?” Russia asked, walking into the room and seating himself by America. Oh shit, he’d been caught. He thought that Russia would stay on the phone longer. Well, it was late in Russia… and Latvia.

“One of my maids calling me to ask what to do about something,” he lied, going back to watching the old How to Train your Dragon series, letting out a snort as Toothless attacked the Whispering Death. He obviously argued the two dragons being able to fight without getting burned, scratched, and bit was bullshit, but the newer series was gorier and more realistic.

“And that language?” he seemed genuinely curious.

“My boss forced me to learn Navajo during WWII,” Alfred lied once more, “it’s totally useless, but my maid knows it too so why not speak it.”

Please don’t ask him to say something in Navajo… Cherokee and Navajo sound really different…

“I’m surprised you actually learned it instead of throwing a fit,” Russia said, laughing at his own joke. America was dragged out of the moment and into a past one.

His boss- his president, paced back and forth through the office, mumbling numbers under his breath as the personification watched silently, a stiff gaze on his boss.

He had been there, in Hawaii. December 7th, the day his adopted daughter was hospitalized… the day his older sister, Imperial Hawaii, said goodbye… for the last time. He had unseen bandages wrapped under his shirt.

“I want to kill him,” the nation simply said, “He killed my sister, and hurt my daughter. I want to kill him.”

“America this is war!” the President yelled at him, “We can’t just do something for revenge- it’s… it’s immoral.”

“Revenge is what guides humans, what has guided them for centuries.” America laughed, eerie and calm in the eyes of death, “Get me in a damn plane and let me blow that asshole to smithereens.”

“America...” the human said, “I know you’re older than me… but you must see-”

“See it from my view, Roosevelt,” America hissed, “she’s dead. My siblings never got to say goodbye. Hawaii lost her mother, and she got bombed! She’s only five physically! Aloha is dead. She is my sister do you not understand that! Not to mention Japan’s been hurting China, which if you do not seem to remember is my Uncle!”

“America stop it right now!” Roosevelt yelled, coming up on the nation, forcing the teen to sit back and away from the angry man. “Go tell England and France of your new status, as Ally.”

“What about Russia? And the other USSR countries? And China?”

“Communist scum and that weak dictatorship can go to hell,” the human turned away, “but tell him and your ‘Uncle’ if you must.”

“America? America? Alfred?” Russia said, shaking him back into this moment, “What’s wrong?”

“Uh… nothing.” America sighed, “Just tired.”

“Want something to eat, I made blinchiki,” Russia coaxed him, pulling him up from the couch, “they’re like France’s crepes.”

“Yes please,” America said, a little fast. Blinchiki was something he ate a lot, Rulyn made it all the time. He remembered her saying something about how it would help him gain weight-

No, don’t.

With a chuckle, Ivan led him into the kitchen, where two plates of the crepes were folded. He had to stop himself from instantly going to the jam. It would make him look suspicious. 

Russia took the jam out of the fridge and popped it open, grabbing a butterknife and pouring it onto the plates. Alfred recalled he didn’t have sour cream, and he knew Russia would have gotten that if he did.

“Your fridge is stocked for someone who lives here,” Russia said, as he put the jar back.

“Not exactly,” America said, letting his head fall as he thought of an excuse, “I don’t exactly remember to buy food, I eat when I’m out and never really go to the grocery store.”  
‘And I don’t live on a farm that produces thousands of pounds of food each year, and I don’t have 72 children, and I don’t keep secrets from the nations,’ he thought, as a certain fat cat walked in.

“Hey Lampushka!” he said, the cat looking up to him in surprise, his tail flicking anxiously.

“Odd, he never acts like that,” Russia said from behind him, grabbing forks.

‘WHY CAN I UNDERSTAND YOU? CHTO ZA HERNIA?!’

“Heh.” Alfred chuckled, wincing in his mind as the cat yelled, “Maybe I’m just special?”

“That isn’t a maybe,” Ivan muttered, Alfred hearing him just barely. He almost blushed, but that would be weird.

‘What are you,’ Lampushka asked, jumping around him.

“Cute cat,” Alfred said, “ever been around other nations?”

“No,” Russia replied, “he always runs away when one visits. Yet he comes right up to you… and does… that.” Russia motioned to Lampushka, having his mental breakdown that only America could hear. Alfred gave him a pat before grabbing his plate from the sink and sitting with Ivan. Eventually, Hero came in, tail flicking. America only caught a little of their conversation. The TV was loud.

‘You said you’d be there when I woke up…’

‘Sorry, tiny queen… I thought we would be getting food.’

‘I told you! Dyami will feed us when he gets the chance.’

‘No reason to get defensive, I’m sorry.’

‘Do it again and I won’t let you do me ever,’ Hero hissed, turning around and walking off, the tom following right behind her, apologizing profusely.

“Kitties, no kits!” Alfred ordered, watching the two go off. Ivan gave him a weird look, yet both the cats ran like hell, knowing they were in trouble. But they had to listen, it was an order.

After breakfast, Alfred gave the excuse that he didn’t brush his teeth and went straight to the bathroom, shoving his fingers down his throat and forcing his gag reflex into action. He vomited, tears flowing down his face as his body worked backward to remove it all. He felt a comforting hand on his back and was almost worried it was Ivan, but it was to light. A few drops of blood came up this time, and a hand towel was given to him. Flushing the toilet, he put the seat down and sat, not bothering to look at the figure in front of him.

“Alfie, you need to stop, you’ll hurt yourself. You are not supposed to end up as I did.” the angel said, his wings frilling.

“I know Davie, but-”

“NO!” Davie yelled, his blue eyes watering. Alfred was secretly thankful for sound-proof walls, “You need to stay strong, please! Please little Alfie! I don’t want you to go where I did! Death lasts forever, and you have the honor to never face it!”

The angel's pure white wings were extended, every last feather stretched, making him seem bigger than he was, even if he was only nine to ten in age. His hair was longer and puffier than it had been in life, and one side fell into a small beaded braid. Alfred could recall that every freckle was the same as it had been, all those years ago.

“Please,” the angel whimpered, extending his hand to Alfred. A flower started growing from his palm. A soft blue with nine petals only found in England. After it was fully grown, Alfred plucked it, feeling it in his fingers.

“I’m going back to Russia now,” America said, wiping tears from his cheek, but keeping the flower.

“Is it your prophecy?” Davie asked suddenly, grabbing him by the arm, “That you would find the one meant for you three-thousand years from when you were born. He fits it all- he’s on the other side of the Strait-”

“He doesn’t fit anything else. He only cares for me out of pity, he did not love me at first sight, he never betrayed me personally, and we aren’t enemies.” Alfred sighed. It was the prophecy that their mother's oldest -Kaya, now dead- had said about him a week after he was born. 

“Believe what you want Alfie~,” Davie said in a sing-song voice, “but he’s literally perfect for you~ and fits the prophecy~”

“Davie,” Alfred called, “please… no.”

“You’re old, find love,” Davie stated, sticking his tongue out and dissolving into the air, probably to go back to the mansion or to see what humans he could fuck with.  
Alfred walked out of the bathroom and went back to lazing around. Hunger made it hard to get energy, so he spent most of his time in his room on his worst days. But right now he couldn’t. Because he was here. And his throat fucking hurt like shit.

He spent the rest of the day lazing on the couch watching the HTTYD series for all that it was worth. Russia spent most of the day knitting. How could he even focus for that long?  
Then again, he had ADHD. If he bothered to try and force himself to hyperfocus on knitting, he could probably do it for a few days before his body shut down.

The two ate steamed vegetables for lunch, although Alfred didn’t have too much. He couldn’t handle it. Europeans always made fun of his people for weighing too much, and they all thought he did.

It wasn’t his people's fault the government made everyone fat.

Alfred went back to resting on the couch as Russia started doing research. On what, he didn’t know, nor care. He just knew that Russia was opening a lot of tabs and typing. He even put headphones on.

“America, have you had Beef Stroganoff before?” he asked, continuing his internet extravaganza.

“STROGANOFF BEEF-” Alfred yelled, jumping off the couch, “IS A YES.” Russia gave him the most what the fuck look he seemed to be able to manage before going back to his computer.

“Why do your people say, ok boomer?” Oh. So that’s how he was playing it. He could have just asked.

“Make fun of old people being inconsiderate,” Alfred replied, “you could have just asked.”

“Da, I could have,” Russia snickered before going to a flat expression, “but you lie a lot.”

“No I don’t,” Alfred responded immediately, not allowing himself to get scared, how would he know about anything like that? His network was safe, not even connected to a satellite. It had its own rod. 

“Even when we talked about suicide in meetings?” Ivan glared, as Alfred let out an internal sigh, “You could have spoken up. And you lied in meetings. You could get in trouble.”

“I never lied once in those meetings.” Alfred growled, “I tell half-truths, jokes, and add morbid details that nobody catches. There’s a difference.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“...yes…” Alfred said, walking over and flopping over onto the Russian as he moved his computer. Russia picked him up under the armpits and placed him on his lap, America relaxing in the heat. Russia’s body was really warm.

“You are a lonely American homosexual,” Russia said, an asking undertone.

“Correct.”

“In your country, it would be normal for you to go to fraternities just to get sex,” Russia asked, as America tried to recall what a fraternity was. Frat house was similar dude, just use that. He nodded. “And you do?” he nodded again. “And, final question, why is this so common in your country.”

“To many tops deny being gay, and a lot fear commitment, bottoms are left to be sad and gay,” Alfred muttered, feeling his eyes slip shut.

“You’ve never been in a relationship before?” Russia asked ANOTHER question.

“No, just sex,” Alfred yawned, “believe me when I say I’ve slept with many a man before, for example, one Alexander Hamilton.”

“I feel like I recognize that name…”

“He was the first Secretary of the Treasury.” Alfred shrugged, “And was also married.”

“Wow, I can’t say I'm surprised.” Ivan laughed at the American's nonchalant-ness, the American snickered in response before the two fell silent. Until Alfred’s phone rang.  
America pushed himself off Russia’s lap and grabbed his phone, saying a “boss” before walking into his room.

“Greetings Bodaway,” Alfred said, sitting at his desk, strumming his fingers along his laptop, that just sat there, unused.

“You met the one from the prophecy?!” the Native American said, excited, over the phone, “I’m so happy for you!”

“No, no I didn’t. Do not believe Davie’s lies.”

“You’re in denial, you’re in denial~”

“Bodaway, I’m not denying anything. It isn’t Russia.”

“If you deny it, you’re a tsundere. And it’s true! Ah I’m so happy!”

Alfred was about to retort before there was a squeak from Bodaway and the phone was taken from him.

“What is this about your prophecy?” Tala said, her voice breaking the silence.

“Aw, did it come true!” Maikoh, Tala’s twin, exclaimed.

“No,” Dyami deadpanned to his older sisters. He could hear their excitement.

“Aw. Just remember little brother, if you think someone is the right one, whisper ‘tł'óół’ and it’ll be revealed!” Maikoh said, “It will connect to his chest from your palm-”

“No. No. It isn’t. Bye.” Alfred said, hanging up as fast as he could despite the protests. He turned his phone on silent and left it at his desk after checking the time. 5:56. Dinner.  
And Ivan was already cooking.

“Borscht?” Alfred asked, recognizing the smell and coming up behind the Russian.

“Da, your nose works surprisingly well,” Ivan praised, “I’m surprised that you know what it smells like though.”

“Dude, even on my streets, that stuff is everywhere. You just gotta know where to look,” Alfred laughed, bright and warm. Ivan found himself entranced but looked away as Alfred looked back to him. 

Alfred invited himself to watch Ivan cook and had to catch himself a few times. Oh no. No catching feelings. NO CATCHING FEELINGS.

but… he’s so warm.

NO.

*weak yes in the background*

NO REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

They had a nice dinner, with the TV blasting in the background. 

After that, they went their separate ways into their rooms, Alfred going on his computer to check through YouTube, scrolling through what his people were doing.  
It seemed the agenda was on the gay this year. The gay and the stupid. And somehow getting an entire bird into your mouth. He was probably a bottom.  
At the bottom of his screen, the icon for a call showed up, and he answered.

“Hey mom,” California showed up, a weak smile on her lips. She had blue eyes, the same color as his, with black hair that faded into blonde tips naturally. Because genetics willed it I guess.

“Heh honey, you okay?” Alfred asked as she smiled once more, showing her inner Hollywood.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine,” she said, before looking off-screen, grabbing someone and picking them up, “But someone isn’t.”

“Mama, why’d you go?” Mariana, his youngest, last daughter of one of his deceased sisters cried, reaching out towards the computer screen on her side pitifully. He felt his heartstrings tug at the sight. God, he wanted to be home. Yet, he was content here, with Russia...

He ended up talking on the computer to all of his kids until 3 am, when Conner burst into the scene and told him to GET SOME FUCKING SLEEP DUMBASS BEFORE YOU TURN DEADASS. He was too tired to go to his bed and ended up sleeping at his desk, his chin resting on his shut computer.

He wanted his little darlings with him, but it wasn’t safe. It never was. It never will be.


	6. 6

Tired. He was tired. What time was it? Early if the alarms hadn’t gone off yet. Where was he? Desk… computer. He was in his office again and had fallen asleep working. Or researching. Or just being on YouTube.

He should probably go back to sleep in his own room, it was just across the hall. He slipped through the hallway unseen, yet he was kinda confused it was a different color- could just be something wrong with his eyes, he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

He was still wearing his jeans, and a coat, and he really didn’t feel like wearing pants. He slipped his clothes off, leaving himself in boxers, and went into his closet, pulling out a sweater and throwing it on. He was kinda confused that it went down to his mid-thigh, yet he was too tired to really care.

He face-planted into his bed and started dozing, getting startled when he realized the sheets and comforter smelled weird. Probably just got washed. It was washing day yesterday, right?

A cat’s paws planted on his calf, and he waited for Hero to walk over to his arms for cuddles. Hero did, and when he grabbed her he realized he had gotten a lot puffier than before. Maybe she needed a haircut? He’d have to get someone to do it. Hero struggled before giving in, timidly. Unlike her.

Whatever. He fell asleep, finally comfortable with less weight on his spine. And this new scent actually was somewhat comforting to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had gone into Alfred’s room to wake him up, yet was startled. He wasn’t anywhere in his room. He started checking around the house, looking everywhere he might be, to no avail. He swore at one point he heard laughter, childish and eerie, yet it could have just been paranoia.

“Alfred!” He called out one last time, looking through the main bathroom one last time. Nothing, at all. The only room he hadn’t checked was his own. Would Alfred really be in there? He had no reason to.

Walking down the hallway, he got to his door and pushed it open slowly, ready to catch the American in his stuff or something.

He blushed to his neck when he actually saw what the American was doing.

In HIS sweater, on HIS bed, cuddling HIS cat, with seemingly nothing else on. His sweater laid at almost the very top of his thigh, giving a… interesting look.

Not to mention the light from the barely open drapes landed perfectly on his hair, giving the look of a halo.

Those lips, just barely open…

He was brought out of his thoughts by Alfred whining before nuzzling into his pillow, giving way for Lampushka to run for it. To make up for it, Alfred grabbed onto his pillow, pulling it to his chest and gripping it, his nose pressed against the fabric.

Ivan was at a loss. What was he supposed to do?

What did he want to do?

Fuck his eyes out- such… primal urges. He could control himself.

All of Alfred’s tossing exposed that yes, he was wearing boxers and that yes, those barely counted as boxers because of how slutty they made him look. What kind of boxers have lace? Were those women's boxers? Why was he dressed like a five star- two-star slut while he’s asleep? Was he in those before?

“Stop it…” Alfred whined in his sleep, turning over, “go away.”

Realizing that he wasn’t talking to him, Ivan went to his bedside, looking over the American. Night Terrors? Did people with anxiety get them? He knew people with PTSD did, he had them too, a long while ago.

Alfred said something in the same language he was speaking yesterday as he started to cry.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Russia muttered, sitting on the bed, rubbing the nations back in soothing circles, “They’ll stop, they’ll leave.”

He was surprised when arms wrapped around his waist, and a face pressed into his hip. He grabbed the American under his arms like you would a baby and placed him on his lap so that he was sitting facing him. Alfred flopped down on him, securing his arms around the Russian’s neck and nuzzling into his scarf. Russia almost forgot that America wasn’t wearing pants, yet when his hand snaked down to hold onto America’s waist he realized. He had a half-naked man on his lap. And that man was America. And he didn’t really care.

He wouldn’t do this for any other nation, he knew. Only his first love, that he betrayed. He was lucky America never found out about the secrets he gave during Stalin’s reign of USSR. How he told that crazy man every secret he knew about America. How he told him that Alfred was strong enough to kill a raging bull with one punch. How he told him of his outstanding ability in warfare, and his ability to consume almost anything and still get nutrition out of it. An odd power for someone raised in a rich mansion in America with tons of food. They were mundane, but they held power in them, and he wished he kept his mouth shut.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

But it felt so right.

America fits in his arms like a missing puzzle piece. A man as precious as gold to him. What would it take to make him his? It wouldn’t be simple, yet something urged him to go for his neck, and bite hard, like one would seal a letter. Yet that was animalistic and was not proper at all.

Alfred seemed to be the kinky bitch type, but still, no.

“Hmm?” Alfred grunted, his eyes fluttering open. He took a few seconds to figure out where he was -Ivan staying perfectly still, ready to let go even if he didn’t want to- before Alfred settled.

“I’m not wearing pants,” Alfred yawned in his ear, twiddling his thumbs behind the Russian’s head.

“I realized that much,” Ivan said, running a hand from Alfred’s shoulder blades to butt. America didn’t move an inch away, instead coming closer, to the point they were basically squished together.

“Wanna have some fun?” Alfred wiggled his hips. Ivan was tempted, but that was… not good for his current mental situation.

“You’re a slut,” Ivan stated, the American laughing a tad in his ear.

“Tap it now and it’s free,” Alfred said, not denying it. He was a stripper, twice, and yet he wasn’t used to these deals.

“Alfred, try that on me and you’re dead.”

“Yes please daddy,” Alfred whined, almost getting up on his knees to give himself more ground before Russia grabbed him by the thigh and forced him to sit back down on his lap.

“It’s hard to threaten you because you want to die,” Ivan grimaced, the two looking face to face for the first time today, “and don’t do that.”

Alfred laughed before flopping onto the bed.

“Why am I in your room?”

“That’s what I was gonna ask you,” Ivan replied. Alfred didn’t have his glasses. He could barely see at the moment, and it was obvious with how much he was focusing on everything.

“I can’t see,” Alfred stretched, popping his shoulders, “I’m gonna go eat breakfast now.”

“I haven’t made anything yet,” Ivan stated, watching as Alfred almost ran into the wall instead of going out the door. God, he really was blind.

Alfred hurried to his room, shutting the door behind him. He almost forgot he was supposed to have bad eyesight. Grabbing the glasses from his desk, he slipped them on before going to his closet and changing his boxers and putting on some short-shorts. He only then remembered to check his phone. A text from Samuel and a few games and YouTube notifications. He checked the text.

‘6,000 w Akita, 20,000 w BRT (black russian terriers, one left), 6,000 in Russian Blues (two left), 45,000 in reticulated pythons, 120,000 in lavender albino BP (ball pythons), 26,000 w Samoyed, 5,100 (fifty-one) w kittens (six left), 50,000 w bengals (one left), 100,000 w Savannah, 36,000 in Irish Wolfhound, 10,000 in rottweilers, 6,000 in st.bernard, 34,000 in mis dog breeds, 10,000 in sphinx, 7,800 in snakes, 3,000 in lizards, 2,000 in rodents. 491,932.76 in all. Lani and Sami want to go to San Francisco next time, big convention on the 20th.’

‘20th? That’s in eighteen days. We won’t have anyth ing by then.’ He sent back, watching as the little dots popped up.

‘June 20th, not May.’ the text popped up, ‘you’ll be back by then for the ritual, won’t you?’

‘Yes, I’m only here until the 21st. Tell Alameda that, she seemed really mad that I was gone.’

‘Don’t blame her, she’s been gone for two weeks beforehand herself.’

‘Ya, ya, how’s that deer looking?’

‘Sleek. Pretty silver thing, already smacked Dakota in the face with a wing when we were trying to cage her.’ Alfred laughed a little imagining the scenario in his head. The personification of North Dakota, named after his passed brother, would totally to that for kicks.

‘At least she’s safe and away from people now. Any more mythical cases?’

‘Angry demon in Sacramento, we don’t know how strong. Send Ru?’

Rulyn’s little secret ability- well, less of ability and more like breed. Possessed at a young age by a wolf demon, and technically the reason he had found her. She managed to get symbiotic with her demon, and thankfully doesn’t have much occurrences besides the few times she started crying blood, proceeding to call it ‘no big deal’ as she did her thing like nothing was happening. She and Sami, adopted sisters, were the only two he knew that had gotten possessed and made friends with the thing possessing them, yet Rulyn’s demonic blood-bond was much stronger.

‘Send Minko,’ Alfred replied. The personification of Chickasaw could deal with an angry demon. After all, bows did wonders in a fight.

‘Ok, get back to Russia, I’ll tell him.’

He knew Samuel left the other side and then proceeded to feel increasingly lonely. Why couldn’t he just isolate himself from the world and get left alone? Go to a place where everyone loved each other? Then he’d be safe.

He left his phone by his computer and went out of his room, going to the kitchen. Ivan still hadn’t made anything, and contrary to popular belief he could cook.

“What are you making?”

“French toast,” Alfred replied, getting the cats some food before going to start breakfast. Heating the pan and buttering it as he started mixing the ingredients, dunking the texas toast, he placed it on the pan before finally turning to look at Russia. He knew he was still wearing his sweater, but he was honestly too comfortable to give it back.

“Can I steal your sweater?” Alfred asked, pulling on the baby blue fabric.

“Only for today,” Ivan replied. Alfred could see his gaze continually slip to his legs. He wasn’t even being pervy he just wasn’t wearing pants, and it didn’t look like he was wearing shorts either.

He flipped the toast before turning back around. Ivan had taken a few steps closer, yet he was still now, like he’d stopped himself. Alfred hadn’t even realized he moved. He couldn’t hear his steps.

Alfred felt something well up inside him. Fear? No, he wasn’t scared. His inner animal- the side he subdued in front of nations? His magic? It was. It had to be.

Ivan seemed to realize what he did and took a few embarrassed steps back, before fleeing into the living room. He stayed still for a few seconds before going back to his toast.

He needed to know.

It took a few moments before he connected to nature once more. He knew that the whites of his eyes had turned black, and he was thankful that he was facing away from Ivan.

“Tł'óół,” he muttered under his breath, a white glowing string that only he would be able to see appearing at his palm, slithering off it like a snake and moving towards the living room. No… it couldn’t be. The string connected right to Russia’s heart, just over his chest.

No… no, it-

It couldn’t be real.

He had to choke back a sob. Kaya… his oldest sister. A psychic, that loved too much. Killed when her heart- a large bright purple amethyst, got sliced by her ‘lover’ -a storm demon- before the Vikings had come. How old was he then? 2000? 1500? About that much.

A week after he was born, she did his first reading, with his twin Conner. He remembered being told stories of it, and the prophecy had been written down in him and his siblings tongue, a mix of all the native languages, long gone to humans. Yet they all still knew how to write in it and speak it.

“Dyami, Eagle brother of white skin and sky eyes, you will find love. Love that nothing can abandon. In three-thousand years time, you will find him. One with the power to move boulders, and one who will love you in an instant time. He will be over the ice strait, the one we have crossed over. He will care for you above any other. Yet, he will be a traitor to you, and he will be your enemy. And you will be above the term ‘enemy’.”

“Anything else Kaya?” Awenita asked, flower crown shifting as her ears -those of a deer- rose from her head. Her horns seemed to glow in the moonlight.

“He is born with many natural abilities. Connected to the earth. He knows the words animals speak, and is a complete elemental. He knows languages we can’t even fathom to think exist. His blood is strong, yet I fear he will be small.”

“How small?” Ituna, one of his plant nymph sisters, asked with a worried expression.

“A foxes length at most, though he’ll grow taller in a few thousand years, suddenly for no explainable reason.”

“Of course,” Kele growled, standing up, exposing his true height, over fifteen feet, “Because this family’s height isn’t fucked up enough.”

“Mother is as tall as an oak tree though, how could he be so small?” Ituna pressured, standing up and grabbing Kele, pulling him back. She was about twelve feet at most.

“Visions just tell me his height, not why,” Kaya said, shifting uncomfortably on her knees, two babies in baskets in front of her.

“What about the other one?  Tahmelapachme?” Maralah, the personification of the Sioux, asked, pointing to the basket on the left of Kaya.

“Tahmelapachme, a dull knife. Brother with white skin and blood eyes. He is difficult. He is a blade, yet he is not dull. He is a traitor, yet a loving heart. He will despise himself for his betrayal and will choose to be killed or to make up for his actions in the end. He has the elements of earth, fire, and water, although weaker than his twin.”

“Uh… that’s nice.” Naveena muttered. She was only a young teen, seven-foot with human features, but with completely blue -no whites- eyes. A water spirit. She wasn’t declared dead in his time, she just disappeared one day and never came back.

In a blast, he came back.

“That wasn’t my memories…” Alfred muttered, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head to clear the nausea that had overtaken him for no reason. “Oh shit my toast.”

Splitting the toast onto two plates, he grabbed the maple syrup and walked over to the living room, sitting beside Ivan on the couch. Ivan took his plate and the two ate in silence, watching early morning Bojack Horseman. Ivan seemed mildly weirded out by the characters, but he still watched it.

The rest of the morning was… odd, to say the least. Ivan was nervous and fidgety, and Alfred was nauseous and uncomfortable. At least until he left to vomit his guts, then he just felt nauseous and uncomfortable. 

Fucking nausea.

Wait, isn’t that just a symptom of hunger?

Nooooooooooo he didn’t want to be hungry. Maybe he shouldn’t be bulimic then. Nah, that’s his body’s problem now.

“What’s wrong?” Ivan asked as he walked back from the bathroom. He looked open and inviting to cuddle, but the Russian’s gaze was at the TV, ice cold. Oh no, was he mad?

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Alfred replied cheerfully, or as much as he could have faked, before he sat down next to the Russian, giving him space.

“I still don’t know why you lie so much,” Ivan sighed, looking over to him, “what am I gonna do? Hurt you?”

“No…” Alfred said, a skeptic edge to his voice.

“Alfred, come here,” Ivan called opening his arms up for the American to come into, which he did.

“What are you?” Russia asked.

“Personification of a union of individual states that don’t exist to represent themselves,” he replied. This time it was a half-truth, even if he wasn’t always the representative of a union, representing the northern plains while Conner represented the swamps, “United States of America. Why?”

“Felt the need to remind you,” Russia chuckled, looking down at him. There was something in his eyes, what was it? Something. Something he wanted to see looking at him again. Only him.

“Tł'óół,” he said under his breath, narrowing his eyes so that the black could overtake them without Ivan seeing, the word sounding like a sigh to untrained ears. Once more the string appeared on his palm, and snaked up to Ivan’s chest, landing right over his heart.

His mate- lover, whatever.

It felt wonderful, yet he had built a web of lies to thick. He would forever live in his own lives with a double life which he hid. And it would be difficult on his kids and siblings. They missed him when he wasn’t there.

Did it have to be this way?


	7. 7

“Alfred!” A voice yelled through the house, the nation in question looking up from his papers, “There’s a snake in the house!”

“Don’t touch it!” Alfred exclaimed immediately, shuffling his papers around a bit before running out of the room. There was a copperhead under the chair, somehow inside. 

“How’d he get in?”

“When I went to put the trash out I left the door open, but it wouldn’t have come in that fast, would it?” Ivan asked, making sure to stay away from the snake, “Is it venomous?”

“Very,” Alfred said with a sigh, “I’ll deal with him, gimme a second. You can go back to whatever you were doing now.”

“What about the cats?” Ivan asked, seeming to try and mentally see how big the snake itself was.

“He won’t bite ‘em, to big for him. Nice four footer though,” Alfred said with a chuckle, “now, scram, I’m dealing with Mr. Copperhead over here, and I’m used to snakes, don’t want you getting bitten now, do I?”

“I’ll be in my room until you’re done,” Ivan said, backing away, “have fun with your ‘copperhead’.”

“Oh I’ll have tons!” Alfred yelled back to the Russian as he left, the sound of his door closing being the last sound for a few seconds.

“How are you bud?” Alfred asked the snake, sitting down right beside him.

‘Big man, scary,’ he flicked his tongue in and out, staying in his little ball of scales, ‘Why do you talk?’

“A little power,” Alfred said, reaching over and petting the snake, the creature lulled. Mean creatures didn’t talk to their prey, so he knew he was safe.

‘There’s fluffy clawed creatures in this den,’ the copperhead shrunk back more, before following up the Americans arm, eventually getting to his lap, ‘very scary.’

“Wanna go back outside?” Alfred questioned, looking out the window. It was clear outside, and the copperhead could go back to his real den.

‘Yes understanding one,’ the copperheads tongue flicked out again, and Alfred gingerly picked the snake up, opening the door and walking the snake to the woods, leaving it in the tangle of roots under a tree, ‘Thank you friend!’ the snake exclaimed, slithering away.

“You’re welcome little bud,” Alfred replied, turning around and walking back into the house.

“Ivan, snake’s gone!” Alfred shouted, turning the TV and watching just a tad of the news. Normal, and bullshit. He heard the door to Ivan’s room open, and the Russian looked around for a few seconds before deeming the room clean and going to the kitchen, possibly for a late breakfast.

“How’d you do it?” Ivan asked, setting the cat food out, both of them running to get their breakfast.

“A touch of magic,” Alfred replied with a Hollywood smile, “I’m going to finish my work, be out in like… four hours.”

“What about breakfast?” Ivan said, “And lunch?”

“I’m fine, I ate real late last night,” Alfred lied, waving to Ivan as he walked back into his room. He hadn’t eaten really anything for… three days… four?

“What did I say about hurting yourself,” Davie said from his bed, his wings spread over the mattress as he scrolled through his phone, Alfred putting all his stuff back in their folders.

“Davie, seriously, go home.” Alfred growled to the angel as he laughed, throwing his phone down onto the bed, “I don’t need you to watch over me. I’m perfectly fine.”  
He felt woozy, but that was normal when he was hungry.

“You’ll pass out in… three, two, one.” Davie said, as Alfred fell to the ground. “See? Now I have to figure out a way to get Russia in here.”

Turning into a puff of smoke, the angel disappeared to the eye, walking through the door and into the living room. Thinking for a few seconds, he started whistling, the Russian’s head snapping back, looking right at him, or, more accurately, through him. 

Ivan stood and started walking towards him, Davie backpedaling into Alfred’s room. He almost let out a shout of approval when Ivan came in the room, but stopped himself.

Ivan seemed shocked, although that wasn’t the only thing going on in his mind. How has this happened? What happened?

Picking up the American, he placed him in his bed, checking his heartbeat, and just waiting. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t call the ambulance, humans and nations were too different biologically, even having different organs. And besides, it wasn’t a rumor how much medical costs in America were.

Wait! America’s Director of Nation would know what was going on.

Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he scrolled for the number, calling it and putting it on speaker. The whistling he heard was another question, one he could solve later.

“Hello?” The voice of the cocky and arrogant man came through, “What do you need?”

“America passed out,” Russia said, “I don’t know why.”

“He probably needs food, borderline anemic, that one.” the Director of Nation sighed, “When he wakes up, force him to eat, he’ll be better after that.”

Anemic? The blood disorder? It didn’t fit, nations couldn’t get anemia unless they bled a lot- oh. It did fit.

It took a few hours for Alfred to open his eyes, in which he coughed and took the water from his bedside.

“You passed out,” Ivan said, coming through the door with a plate of sandwiches, “your Director said you needed food.”

“What…” Alfred grumbled, looking around. He was kinda lost… what was happening in this moment? He couldn’t really remember anything- Davie. “I don’t need food, food is for the weak.”

“And you are very, very weak.” Ivan replied, setting the plate on the Americans lap, “Now eat.”

“Fine…” Alfred yawned, taking a bite from the first. Turkey, ham, provolone and mozzarella cheese, white bread, lettuce, normal sandwich stuff.

“And I’m making sure you don’t vomit it,” Ivan said, sitting down beside him on the bed as Alfred almost choked on his food.

“I’m not bulimic!” Alfred exclaimed, glaring at the Russian, “I have no idea why I passed out!”

“Lies Alfred, you eat enough, then you purge. You would be fine if you didn’t. Any other illnesses I should be aware of?”

“Fine… major depression- technically chronic major depression, atypical depression, Social anxiety, panic disorder, PTSD, insomnia, bulimia, anorexia, a weird form of ARFID, and Father Absence Syndrome,” Alfred listed all the things he’d been diagnosed with in the past- well, two years ago and a little before.

Ivan looked to scared to talk. He took out his phone and started typing and scrolling, probably looking up what most of them were. Alfred just forced himself to eat.

An arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer after he was done eating. God, he could hear the fucking smile on Davie’s face.

“This might seem weird to you, but I swear I heard whistling that led me to you,” Ivan whispered as Alfred rested his head on the others shoulder.

“That is weird,” Alfred fake shuddered, “better not be like a ghost or something watching me.”

“You never told anyone besides England why you were scared of ghosts, why are you?” Ivan asked, rubbing his hand up and down the Americans side.

“You can’t shoot them. It’s scary.” Alfred muttered angrily. 

“Wow, that’s a horrible reason,” Ivan replied with a raised eyebrow, “if that’s your ideology, I’m not scary because you can shoot me.”

“Yep,” Alfred replied, pulling a gun out of his bomber jacket. Where the fuck did that come from? 

“...technically you shouldn’t have that…” Ivan stated, positioning himself so he could grab it.

“Well, I need it so I can shoot people, as you do,” Alfred laughed, about to put his gun back before Ivan snatched it.

“No… I don’t,” Ivan countered, “and it isn’t my fault I don’t want you to shoot yourself.”

“Uh-” Alfred started, trying to find a viable reason to keep the gun, “fine.”

Ivan didn’t reply, but he did smile. His real smile, soft and without violent intentions.

It was only so long before Alfred’s stomach growled again and Ivan sent him to go eat. He had a feeling Alfred was lying about the laughter, and a paranoid feeling of being watched plagued him. 

And, his attention had been drawn by a paper on the floor. Picking it up, he looked at the date.

March 9, 1954

That was… seventy years ago. Why was it still in Alfred’s folders? Looking through the paper, he felt his blood run cold. An outline… of the deaths of three suspected communists. Tortured to death with tactics that the NAZI’s used. One was shot in the leg and left to bleed out, another was drowned, and the last one… death by a blade. He noticed the ‘killed without trial’ near the end.

He also noticed that it said, ‘Torturer: Alfred F. Jones. No information gathered.’

Alfred. Alfred Jones. That was America, it had to be. He wouldn’t have it for any other reason.

He felt sick…

Sure, he tortured people. Just not without trial. Wasn’t America supposed to be the one that’s free? The one where everyone got a fair share?

Putting the paper back on the desk, he left it to go join Alfred for dinner. After, they both went to their separate rooms.

One thing Alfred noticed, was the paper still on his desk.

Ah, the Cold War, probably one of the few papers he had left from that time. Tearing the paper into tiny little pieces, he put the shreddings in the trash and went to confront Ivan.

“Looking through my stuff?” he asked, pushing open the door. Ivan looked to be contemplating his decisions.

“It was out…” Ivan muttered, “why would you do that?”

“I had too,” Alfred replied, looking to the ground. His government threatened his family if he didn’t comply. They always did. “I’m not like that anymore. I haven’t done anything like that since the Vietnam Execution.”

“The what?” Ivan asked, looking up to him.

“Twenty thousand people were killed without trial,” Alfred said, “there’s a reason Vietnam hates me, even if she doesn’t know about it. Fuck, the public isn’t allowed to know about it.”

Silence fell across the room, both falling into memories of that war, one side much more violent than the other. Alfred remembered the crying as he shot people from behind, his eyes cold as men and women worked on putting the bodies to dump.

“We aren’t saints,” Ivan replied, opening his arms up for America. He finally understood why he had PTSD. Who wouldn’t? “It’s in the past now.”

“Agent Orange isn’t, but sure,” Alfred replied, engulfing the Russian in a hug. He started crying not long after.

“Shhh… it’s okay…” Ivan cooed to the American, “it’s over.”

“They’re dead.” Alfred finished. He remembered his boss telling him that. That was how he finished. That was how they all finished.

It’s just how it was for humans in the end.


	8. 8

Her eyes flickered open.

It was still dark. Early. Purring rumbled on her chest and near her head, and there was a heavy weight on her legs.

4:34 stood in red against the black.

“Shadow, move kitty,” she muttered, her cats head snapping up as she motioned off of her, the cat jumping off and landing on the bed, waking the other by her head.

Yawning, she stretched, Odele -who was previously on her legs- coming over to lick her face.

Forcing herself onto staggering feet, she went to her window and pushed it open, early breeze sinking into her bones. Looking over the grounds, she watched to see if any movement caught her eye. A horse in an old field, lying down asleep. A dog that went outside to do its business. A few cats sharing their early morning prey.

Bathroom meant self-care, and self-care meant that paranoia had to fuck off. She brushed her teeth, cleaned her face, and put on her minimal make-up and deodorant.

Spinning on her heel, she went into her closet, looking through the selection of about fourteen hoodies and eight pairs of ripped jeans, with a few scattered t-shirts and wife beaters. 

It was warmer out, but the silver lines on her wrist did nothing getting shown. It was nobody's business how many times she’d wanted to die.

Throwing on a camo hoodie and jeans, she went into her room, tidying up.

Something was thrown out of her head.

“Skexi, if that was another mouse,” Rulyn turned to the window, a bearded vulture sitting on the ledge, eyes looking right at her. Pulling whatever it was out of her hair, she discovered that Skexi was getting more original. “Wow. Rat skeleton. You know how to please me, truly.”

She threw the skeleton to the bird, who chomped down on it, eating whatever she could get out of it.

“Don’t do it again,” she sighed, as the bird squawked and flew off, the sound of wings fading.

Her animals followed at her feet as she left, grabbing her bag and sparing a glance at the clock. She was still on time to get to the kitchen if she hurried.

Running through the halls, she skipped the elevator and ran down the stairs, avoiding the walls which were outfitted with cat-walks and shelves.

When she got to the main hall, she opened the main door with the keypad and went along, animals running out as a bug net fell from the ceiling, coating the entrance.

Rushing to the kitchen, she realized that, once again, she was first. God, people really needed to hurry- she was ten minutes early. Oh well. 

Starting up some of the machinery, lights, bread, and vegetable chopping, she got on her tablet and went to work on seeing what needed to happen to make ends meet this month.

Same as all the others, besides more outside supplies being needed… and she had to worry about Alfie. He better be safe. If he wasn’t… she’d send that Russian to the Wendi’s. It was almost amusing to think of, a nation torn to shreds by overprotective sinners.

She felt something slither over her foot and looked down.

King Cobra.

“Bruh,” she said, picking up the snake and wrapping it around her neck like a scarf, the cobra scenting her for a bit before finding the counter more interesting. It, actually he, curled up on the counter, looking towards her with his black eyes. “Do you want food?” the snakes head bobbed, and Rulyn took out her stick, checking the collar on his neck and connecting it to her tablet, registering everything about the animal. Heart rate, breathing, illnesses, genetics, origin, and most important: last time fed. Exactly seven days ago. 

Cobra could count.

Giving the cobra some pets, she turned around and went to where their animals food was kept. Most was automatically given, but some creatures like the larger reptiles, amphibians, and rodents ended up being harder to find, so it was easier by hand.

Pulling out one of their dead snakes, a large garter snake, she dragged it out of the fridge, and dropped it on the floor, the cobra taking instant interest. The cobra came off the counter to secure his prey, eating it head first.

Realizing she forgot something, she exited the room through another door, down the pathway, and to where the egg chickens were kept.

She grabbed the cart, filled to the brim with all the eggs the AI had collected previously. She jostled it up the path and into the kitchen, working on separating them for the time being. An electronic counter labeled 243 eggs on the clean side, dwarfing the 23 bad. Not bad for 302 hens.

Bad eggs were tossed, and good eggs were eaten. 150 eggs for breakfast, and the rest got made into animal food. 

Starting the machine that cooked breakfast meat, she watched the egg counter slowly go down to 93, and as the machine started working in sight, the eggs being cracked and cooked over the stoves that lined the wall. Sound echoed off the walls, bringing life to the room.

Two states walked in, Texas and Nebraska.  
'  
“Hey auntie,” Texas said, smiling at her, “need any help?”

“Well… I am planning on serving pawpaw today,” Rulyn said as both the boys instantly regretted their decision, “want to go get some? Eighty will do.”

“But uh… none of the horses are awake, or warmed up,” Nebraska made a pitiful excuse.  
“Take one of the trucks then,” Rulyn replied.

“Isn’t that a waste of gas?” Texas said, taking a few steps back.

“I mean, you are too.” Rulyn said, picking her nails and giving him ‘the look’, “Now go Mr. Cowboy 1 and Mr. Cowboy 2.”

With a defeated look, the two went out the side door, Nebraska muttering about how he knew that this was a bad idea. Pawpaw were only being grown on the complete other side of the valley in the woods, but they were worth it. And the kids loved them.

“Morning Ru,” Lani said, pushing her way into the kitchen. Sami wouldn’t be too far behind, and a pot of tea for the three of them needed to be prepared. They were currently out of sun tea, since someone forgot to put it out.

“Morning Lani,” Rulyn replied, dipping her head to the Hawaiian as she started the machine that made tea, and the coffee machine -two machines that sat side-by-side on the wall, about a three foot square of hot water and infusion- so it could get hot enough by the time breakfast was done.

“Has Marco or Minko given you an update?” Lani asked, starting vegetables and fruit as Rulyn checked her phone. Nothing.

“No. Marco better get to me soon or I’ll bust his ass out of there.” Rulyn growled, a few dogs running in from outside through the side door. Alfred’s grey wolf, Kanti, and Alaska’s black wolf, Juneau came in and sat beside her, probably wanting her to feed the animals.

“You trust him so little, he’s one of us, he can’t die that easily,” Lani chuckled, smiling.

“Lan, we die if we’re given IV’s. We have to find plant based supplements when we’re in stores because they’re the only things that don’t kill us instantly. If he gets found out, and shot, he’s gonna die because he’ll go to the hospital.” Rulyn ranted, her speed picking up in her anger, “Not to mention some of our organs dissolved when we were transformed, which is suspicious. So, if he doesn’t call me or text me, I’ll find him.”

“He knows his medicinal plants, and Samuel taught him how to make medicine for our kind. And besides, people like that tend to be drawn towards knives and bats instead of guns.” Lani replied, “Also, we didn’t lose that many.”

“Kidneys, bladder, appendix, wisdom teeth, rectum,” Rulyn listed, “I’d say it’s pretty weird that we don’t piss or shit. Not to mention our larger gallbladders.”

“You… are a nerd.” Lani said, backing off. Even if she was a nihilist, she knew better than to piss off Rulyn. It was better to back off then to get your eyes clawed, even though she was only like this in the morning.

“Yo dudes…” Sami slurred, walking around the wrong side of the kitchen. Rulyn poured her a cup of tea and handed it to her, the German accepting it gratefully.

The three went to work, Rulyn pressing the button to feed all the animals at five thirty, and Kingman and Celestia coming into the kitchen to ask them stuff at around five forty-five, Nebraska and Texas coming in after with two big boxes full of fruit that got handed to Sami. It was only so long before Hawaii came bundling down, asking to set off the alarms.

“Go ahead kid,” Sami said, “It's time for chaos.”

Hawaii ran out, and it was only so long before they heard the shrill sound of the alarms going off in the house. The last of the food was placed on the conveyor belt, and the three left to the dining hall.

Rulyn felt a buzz in her pocket, and looked at her phone. Marco.

‘Sorry I’m late, got busy. We have an auction soon, I’ll text you the date when I get it. High held, money in it. They haven’t connected the dots that I’ve been the one sabotaging them. Safe word: Galapagos.’

‘Glad your safe, got an animal count?’ Rulyn texting back. Cole came and sat next to her, Samuel and Bodaway following close behind. The immortalized all had a tendency to sit together, near Alfred’s siblings. They were right next to the part of the table that was raised even further off the table so Alfred’s (very tall- even to her, and she was six foot) siblings could sit.

The chair Alfred dominated- the head of the table- was empty. Nobody touched it when he was gone.

‘No, estimate about 15, all endangered. I know there’s gonna be a blue tiger, white lioness, liger cub. Red wolf, your favorite. Snow and amur leopard. White rhino. African wild dog. Red panda. Marine Iguana. All I know. I message you when I get exact count. It is in Chicago though, and bring the bus.’

‘Thanks, I’ll get some of the cages set up.’ Rulyn replied.

“Melantha!” Rulyn called to the human passing behind her.

“Hm? Yes?” Melantha replied, turning to her.

“We got a new list from Marco, I need at least seven big cat areas, a big saltwater amphibian cage, and a few savannah and forest areas marked off.” she said, taking her tablet out of her bag and starting on her recalculations. They needed a lot of money up front to even get into the area Marco was working for, although they would not be paying for the animals.

“Sure, I’ll go get someone to help after breakfast!” she said excitedly. She was raised here, and knew animals, and loved animals, although the family she was descended from was a complete ‘do not sell your soul immortality sucks’. Which, they aren’t wrong. The transformation to turn immortalized hurt too, for weeks you got bedridden with a fever of about 107, and the feeling of your insides rearranging, and the knowledge that they were. 

But it did give you some pretty nifty hacks. You could immortalize five animals to be connected to your life force, you didn’t age, your body got stronger and more resistant, and for them, they got a minor form of Alfred’s animal-speak, animals being able to understand them, but them not being able to understand animals or order them to do anything.  
The in-between of humans and personifications.

But personifications- at least of his side of his family. God, they were strong. Tall as a tree, super strength, elements. Animals just living in this valley with them doubled their ages, so one that lived 10 years- you’re living 20-25 now. They could immortalize however many animals they wanted, although most just did one or two. They could immortalize as many humans as they wanted- and they gained power doing so, although it was concise that Alfred would immortalize all the humans that wanted it, so he had the most strength.

They were powerhouses.

A bald eagle screeched, interrupting her thoughts. Freedom flew down from the rafters and landed on Alfred’s chair, looking around for her owner. If anyone didn’t like Alfred being gone it was that bird.

“Freedom!” Cole called, holding out his arm as she flew over, gripping his arm with her talons. He set her down on the table and gave her some pats (and bacon).

The normal morning chaos filled the room, kids running around trying to get food first.

“How are you today?” Anastasia said, walking over to them, Tatiana and Maria going for the food. Alexei was missing? No wait, there he was.

“Not bad, how about you Romanov? Pissed off any communists?” Rulyn teased as Ana shook her head with the slightest of glares.

“Not bad either. Found any American secrets for the KGB, or is your father’s legacy not your own?” Ana asked in Russian, a raised brow.

“Low hit,” Rulyn said, dropping it as Ana chuckled and sat down. Sami came bounding over, handing Rulyn a plate of bacon and sitting beside her, Ana sitting on her other side.  
“So was yours,” Anastasia laughed again as her sisters came back, handing her a plate.

“Oh, so we’re making fun of how Rulyn’s a communist?” Sami asked, joining the conversation.

“I am not a communist-”

“Yep,” Anastasia said with a smile as both her sisters chuckled. Rulyn grumbled, going to eat her food, sometimes saying her opinion in the conversation happening between all the immortalized. Alexei came and sat down across from them with Lani not long after, everyone laughing as breakfast went on, tiredness slowly fading so that they could get to work on the farm.

Breakfast was done, and the plates were thrown into the dishwasher system.

Rulyn immediately went to get away from the chaos so she could start all the outside machines, maybe even check the bees. Walking to the horse stables, she knocked on the wood, and a German Shorthair Pointer, named Chocolatini, came running out, sitting right in front of her.

“Let’s start the day,” she said to the dog as he ran back into the stables, barking up and down the aisle twice as Rulyn clicked the button that opened all the stable doors, horses immediately following Chocolatini out. Rulyn clicked another button that filled the troughs on the side of the stables full of hay, many of them instantly going to eat. Walking through the stables, she checked to see if any horses were still in the building, going through the twisted aisle to see if any of the 90 or so horses were still in before she sanitized all the stables. A mare pushed her little colt along, the smoky chestnut not liking the idea of going outside today.

“Tut tut Skippy,” she cooed, the mare giving up and just walking out. Eventually Skippy made the decision to follow his mother, neighing loudly for her.

Odele finally came back from wherever she was, Shadow sitting on the dogs shoulders before jumping onto her, sitting on her shoulder like a parrot as Odele did her job for her, looking through each of the stables before running back to her. Both left, and Rulyn pulled down the door, clicking the final button. The sound of water spraying was the only sound inside, cleaning the entire thing out, for about five minutes, before the sounds of the dryer going off started, drying the entire inside. Everything stanky got put down the drain to the sewers, which carried to a cave and dumped there. They got all their other water from the lake, an entire system in the electrical room dedicated to purifying water.  
After the dryer finished, she opened the stable doors again before going to look for her favorite horse. A big brown mare with pretty chestnut eyes. She found Gypsy waiting for her.

“Hey girl,” she cooed, petting the horse and pushing herself on. She wasn’t going far, she never did, so she just rode bareback. Her pants could be washed of dust. And besides, everyone who wasn’t too tall to ride a horse normally rode a horse, and most were too lazy to put a saddle on.

“Hai!” she said, the horse starting off at a trot, the feeling of Shadows claws against her back making her self consciously worried. Odele trotted beside the horse as they made their way down to the main animal keep, which was much farther away than the horse stables and egg coop.

Gypsy rode into the main of the animal keep, and Rulyn could already hear the sound of animals who had been woken by Chocolatini when he ran over here.

Leaning over a sleeping boxer, she opened the pen doors for the cows, all of them going out into the fields. She sent Odele in to check, the dog barking at an especially slow cow before running back out Rulyn walked through and closed the door to the field, before shutting the door on the human side and starting the cleaning process. This was only one of the four cow barns, all side by side and each housing about 100. Repeating the process three more times, she finished her work on the cow barns until they needed to be opened at night. She noticed some of the others leading cows over to milking stations, and a few on horseback checking tags (cows, sheep, and pigs weren’t given collars, all their info was on ear tags) to see who to pair with who.

Going on to the next building, she opened the first sheep barn, made sure everyone was out, and pressed the cleaning mechanism on, repeating it with three of the four other barns. The last barn would be lambing soon, and having the lambs born outside had them at risk of being stepped on. Actually, she needed to check on them.

Dropping Shadow on the ground and walking inside, she looked through the tufts of black and white to see if she could see any lambs.

“It seems like today is the day,” she said into her walkie-talkie, “some of y’all need to get your butts over here, we got our first lambs.”

“Comin’,” Conner’s voice broke through.

“Be there in a second, I’m held up by a cat in a tree,” Samuel replied.

“Soon,” Adany, or Cherokee, said.

“Already here!” Advent exclaimed as the door opened, the human stepping in. She opened the gate and started making baby pens with some of the metal fence posts that could move. Rulyn jumped the fence and grabbed the lamb from off the ground, checking to see if it was alive before she used it to lead the mama to the pens Advent was working on, putting the two in before Advent closed it up.

It was only so long before Conner and Samuel came in, each getting to work on checking which of the sheep were in labor, leaving them to have babies outside and then leading them to the baby pens.

“Stillborn!” Conner exclaimed, his finger still in the mouth of an un-moving lamb, “Where’s the dead baby cart?”

“I have it,” Ajax said, pushing open the door with the cart getting pushed ahead of them. It was a normal cart with a bag instead of shelves. Adany followed behind them.  
“Catch!” Conner exclaimed, throwing the dead lamb at the human, the human catching it in the cart with a look as Conner congratulated himself of his throw.

“Conner…” Rulyn mumbled, regret pooling in her as Samuel got the artificial nipples ready for when sheep had more than two lambs. 

Adany ignored his brother, grabbing a sheep’s lamb and leading her with it to a baby pen. He was easily tall enough to just walk over the fences, which made it look like the sheep were micro.

Looking around, she noticed a sheep giving birth, to what looked like a backwards lamb. Rushing over, she noticed that it was indeed backwards, and grabbed the little lamb, pulling it out more and more as the mother pushed, covering her hand and sleeve in drops of blood. Eventually the entire lamb was out, and she put it down, reaching her hand in to see if there were any more from this sheep. She felt another.

“Vet!” Ajax yelled, “Need you!”

“I’m busy!” Rulyn replied, “Give me a minute!”

Pulling the second lamb out, she once again checked to see if the mother was having another. Three? Seriously? 

She took the third lamb out and left the sheep to bond with her babies, shaking some of the blood off her hand as she went over to were Ajax was staring. The sheep was laying on her side… and attempting to give birth like that.

Pushing the sheep up to her feet, the animal immediately gave birth, and went to go eat the bag of nutrients that came with the baby. 

“I still need to take care of the turkeys, chickens, pigs, and the exotics!” Rulyn said, “Samuel can play veterinarian while I’m gone for however long ten minutes takes.”

“Wait- but I’m a doctor!” Dr. Samuel said, twisting around as he worked on the extra lamb pen.

“Samuel, I have a doctor's degree too, so technically I am too,” Rulyn said, bowing as she walked backwards to the door, “does that mean I get to play with baby lambs and drag my ass- no.”

“But you also have a veterinarians degree-!” Samuel exclaimed as Rulyn shut the door behind herself to do her job.

“Well, she told you.” Advent joked, Ajax laughing their ass off in the corner.

“Uh…”

Closing the door, Rulyn left, Shadow climbing back onto her shoulder and mounting her house, trotting to the other animal pens, Odele following behind her. Someone had already dumped all the food waste into the pig pen, so they were fine. Clicking a button, she let all the meat chickens and turkeys out to roam. Last thing left was the goats. She opened the stall doors, and let Odele scare them all out, before she started the cleaning system.

Getting back on Gypsy, she headed down to the exotic cages. All of them were connected, so all she had to go was press a button- and all were loose. A panter bounded up and past her, a lynx not far behind. There was a howl as one of the wolves gathered their pack, a few dogs joining in on the howl. A rhino with a pristine horn walked out of the cage with her little baby following behind her. She saw a bull elephant coming out of his cage too, large ivory tusks glistening in the sun. The giraffe made their way out of their night homes, and a few dingos ran out under them. A hawk perched itself on the shoulder of a bengal tiger that came out into the sun to sleep. A bear patted along, coming up to her for some scratches behind the ears. A small group of bison walked along grey wolves and coyotes. The small group of mixed antelope species they had collected gathered together to walk to the closest river, and she knew they wouldn’t be eaten by any of the alligators, crocodiles, or caimans that resided in it and the lake.

God she loved this place. It was mutual and symbiotic and-

Sheep.

Getting back on Gypsy, Rulyn said the order to her horse and rode off, back to the sheep barns. Odele was playing with a Pomeranian not to far off.

Getting off Gypsy, she let her do whatever, taking Shadow off her shoulder and giving her a few pets, leaving her outside as she walked back in the barn.

Not complete chaos.

Actually, nothing new had happened.

“Think we should go on call? Someone stays to make sure nothing goes wrong?” Rulyn asked, resting herself against the fence as the born lambs were licked clean.  
“Specifically you,” Samuel grumbled, jumping over the fence.

“I’ll stay,” Ajax volunteered. Rulyn finally noticed them sitting in the middle of the pen, coaxing a sheep into giving birth, “I still like sheep more than checking potatoes for bugs.”

“I’ll do the bugs,” Adany spoke, stepping over the fence and leaving, Advent following behind him.

“I’ll be on call!” Rulyn exclaimed to Ajax, the human nodding with a smile. Conner long jumped over the fence and surprisingly didn’t land on his face before he ran out, Samuel walking behind him.

Rulyn left, taking Gypsy to the storage area beside the cows. Pushing the door up, she went to each separate poo machine (a big machine, like those big floor/ice cleaners that can ‘smell’ poop, find it, and pick it up) and turned them on, the six machines beeping before setting out into the grass, immediately going around and collecting shit before someone could step in it.

“Where’s the pork slabs?” Cole asked over walkie-talkie.

“In the smokehouse,” Arkansas replied, “I did it earlier.”

“Thanks!” Cole’s voice creaked, and Rulyn smacked her radio. Hers was getting old, and it made for some fun static.

Leaving Gypsy to do her own thing, she passed by Caohoma on the way back, the wampus cat growling angrily… or fearfully... at well… anything really.

“Hey, how are you?” Rulyn asked, the wampus’ cougar head snapping to her. Her human arms were crossed, the cougar part of her body was taunt. She looked like a cougar mixed with a centaur, yet her head was still cougar. She was the Blue Ridge Mountains, and one of Alfred’s older siblings.

“Uh… good. Do you happen to know where the Bluejay is?” Caohoma replied, getting really jittery. At the mention of their blue Piasa, Rulyn stilled.

“Huh? Um… no… why?” Rulyn asked, “I haven’t seen him since… since I left. He was on the rafters of the entry hall. Why haven’t you called it in?”

“Uh…” Caohoma mouthed, grabbing her walkie-talkie from her belt, “Have any of you seen Bluejay?”

An array of no’s filled the responses until Alaska’s voice filtered through.

“He’s with me, Hawaii, and Arizona. We have all the jackalopes with us too if you want ‘em.”

“Uh… no, I just haven’t seen him.” Caohoma sighed, probably feeling better than she did ten seconds ago. Rulyn smiled before walking off, back to the house.

After she was in the garden, she sat on one of the benches, using her tablet. Possibly looking at comics, possibly watching porn, nobody knows.

“Yo girl!” Alexei yelled, waving to her and running over to sit beside her, “I have… a question.”

“Yes?” Rulyn asked with a raised brow. Delaware and his pet fox walked by, Pennsylvania in front of him, poking fun at him.

“You think I should get another piercing?” he asked, looking over the bright green of the garden, “All my sisters said no.”

“Where? You already have tongue, double piercing on the ears, and nose.” Rulyn replied, looking over him. He mumbled something, but she couldn’t hear him.

“Alexei, I have tinnitus, you need to speak up,” she said, as he blushed.

“Nipple.”

“...you’re nervous about saying nipple around me…?”

“I mean, you’re a woman-” Alexei stuttered.

“Alex, I will take off my top,” Rulyn said, starting to pull her hoodie off. Alexei quickly stopped her, a blush covering his face up to his ears.

“You don’t need to do that! I’m fine!” he exclaimed in Russian, getting excessively nervous.

“You aren’t acting very fine.” Rulyn replied in the same language, “And get your piercing, your sisters would never have to know. Isn’t that expensive either.”

“Sweet…” he mumbled under his breath, “Thanks!”

“Oddball…” she muttered, looking over at him as he ran back to the smaller mansion- the one he slept in.

Noon passed, the lunch alarm sounding off and people rushing to get their lunch quickly so they could go back to their own activities. Sandwiches. Not bad. Some of Alfred’s older siblings helped their younger siblings get the sandwich of their choice. 

She wondered what he was going.

“Ma’am!” A demon said, walking up to her, “Is this the residency of the Winema Clan?”

Well, that was technically their name. Alfred’s mom was Winema and the majority was descended from her, yet she was dead. Technically their name should be the Dyami Clan, since he was their representative, yet he never bothered to change it. Succeeding in making many of his siblings angry.

“You’re pretty energetic,” Rulyn said, not batting an eye, “yes. Our head of house is on business. I’m second in command. What do you need?”

“Uh… how long with your head of house be on business? I need to speak with him, personally.”

“Just tell me, I’m the one that documents everything. I’ll know anyways.”

“In… private?” the demon asked, navy eyes looking around fearfully at most of Alfred’s siblings.

“Let’s go to Dyami’s office,” she said, handing her plate to a passerby and motioning for him to follow her. He did, and the two left the dining hall to the elevator, going up to the seventh floor. A few cats laid sprawled out, and an Alaskan Malamute patted along to the stairs. Otherwise, no evidence of life.

“What made you second in chain?” the demon asked suspiciously as Rulyn led him to the office, “You don’t seem like the Beta type.”

“My ability to function in chaos.” Rulyn answered, opening the door to the room. The big window in the back showed the entire estate. All the animals- all the kids- you could see everything from here.

“More than one of those big ones?” the demons eyes narrowed, “You are the youngest not-human here, I’ll tell you that.”

“You came to ask me something, not question my rank. What do you want?”

“You need to answer a question I don’t think you know.” the demon sighed, pulling out a sheet and leaning on the wall to write on it, “Who is Ivan Braginski? This is directly from Hades so you need to answer honestly.”

“Personification of Russia,” Rulyn said like it was so obvious.

“What is his relation with Dyami?” the demon asked, going down a line.

“You just have to see him once to know, he’s Dyami’s mate.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

“I could see the string connecting the two as soon as I saw them, true mates- soulmates.” Rulyn nodded, “We also got confirmation from an white-wing angel -Alfred’s Guardian- that he did know that Ivan was his mate.”

“...good on him. What’s Ivan’s child count?” the demon went down his list.

“None.” 

“Age?” the demon said. Rulyn counted three more questions.

“About 1000.”

“Species?”

“Human; Empire-personification.”

“Last question, magic?” the demon asked, turning to her.

“Not elemental. He has ‘power’ over adrenaline release. Basically all the other nations are pussy's and scared of him.”

“So… no,” the demon marked off, “thank you for your time, you may resume your day meal.”

“You’re welcome, tell Persephone I said hi,” she said as he nodded, disappearing. She went to the desk, pulling out a report from the bottom drawer, and writing it, slipping it into Alfred’s inbox on the wall for when he got back. Four already resided in there.

Going back to lunch, she ate and hung out with Sami and Cole for the rest of the day. Ajax never called her in, so she didn’t worry about it. They could handle themselves.

She still wondered what Alfred might be doing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bet I can beat you a Tetris!” Alfred exclaimed, pulling the game out of his bag. 

“You’re on.”


	9. 9

There’s a smut warning on this chapter. (Just foreplay)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You have booze?” Ivan asked, looking through the drawers of the kitchen, and pulling out a large bottle of Kroger brand vodka.

“Um… that’s what you need to make martinis and cocktails…” Alfred muttered, giving him a look. Did he look like the non-drinking type?

“You, yourself, have booze?” Ivan said, motioning to the alcohol content label, “Doesn’t that break your laws?”

“Ivan, I’m older than America itself…” Alfred replied, “And besides, according to the government, I am 25.”

“... isn’t that still illegal? You’re mentally nineteen, and on all your meeting reports you say your age is too,” Ivan asked, placing the bottle on the sink.

“Bro I could just hop the border to Canada if I cared that much,” Alfred replied, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it 1⁄4 of the way with vodka as Ivan gave him a look. He grabbed the pineapple juice from the fridge and filled the rest of the glass.

While keeping eye contact with Ivan, he drank the entire thing.

“I wondered why you had pineapple juice…” Ivan said as Alfred put the glass down. He didn’t even wince when he drank. Weren’t Americans pussies when it came to alcohol?

“Pineapple juice has multiple uses, Ima go file my taxes,” Alfred said, waving as he went to go hide out in his room. He ate, so Ivan really had no reason to keep him in the living room. 

Also, what else could pineapple juice do? It was just pineapple.

Looking to the bottle of booze, Ivan grabbed the glass and filled it up, and got prepared to feel his mind stop.

‘Ew… boring,’ Alfred thought, looking at the five pieces of paper that sat at his desk. He knew that he would get bored, because reading the small print and then going through all the small print and then researching the small print.

Taxes suck.

But alas, he continued doing them, since he could be arrested if he didn’t.

After some time, Alfred looked at the clock and noticed it was 5:30 at night. Ivan never called him out for lunch, and he kinda got distracted. Fuck… now he’d have to spend another day doing taxes…

Walking out of the room with a defeated look, he found his bottle of vodka, his wine, borbon, and whiskey scattered around on the floor. Empty.

Dude booze is expensive here. 

Well, he could just get more bottles from the cellar- he wasn’t in his house.

Meh, he could just buy more. Alcohol was on the houses list of essential items, so technically he could get as much as he wanted.

“Ivan?” he asked the living room. He didn’t know where the Russian had gone, just that he drank all his alcohol.

Arms slipped around his neck, and a face nuzzled into his hair.

“Gde ya? (Where am I?)” Ivan muttered against his head, “Nebo? Ya dolzhen byt’, est angel. (Heaven? I have to be, there’s an angel.)”

Alfred blushed at being called an angel, starting to try and squirm away.

“Nyet, ya ne angel, (No, I’m not an angel,)” he said as Ivan gripped him tighter, “ya rodina, strana… personifikasi. (I am a motherland, a country a… personification.)”

“Krasiviy personifikasi, (beautiful personification)” Ivan replied, “Bidet odin krasiviy ostansya so mnoi? (Will the beautiful one stay with me?)” 

“Um… horosho… (okay)” Alfred said as the grip on his neck became tighter. He could feel most of Ivan’s weight on him, but it was easy to ignore. “Ty zapomnish’ eto?” (Will you remember this?)”

“Hm?” Ivan said against his neck, getting a little too close to his weak spot, “V tovikh volosakh babochka. (There’s a butterfly in your hair.)”

“Ya… ostavlu eto na nyet... (I’ll… leave that at no)” Alfred whispered as Ivan tried to get the invisible butterfly out of his hair. Didn’t bother him much, he raised an army of toddlers after all.

Eventually Ivan seemed to find standing boring and dragged the American like a ragdoll to the couch. They ended up with Alfred on Ivan’s lap, two strong arms snaked around his waist and refusing to let go. Alfred was fine with this, relaxed even.

And then he felt someone lick him, shoulder to clavicle.

“Ivan, I think you need to lay off the wine,” Alfred said, not even bothering to speak in Russian. He was tired goddammit. 

“Nyet, moya. (No, mine)” Ivan said angrily holding him tighter.

Well… Lani did say he would feel better if he got laid…

“Wanna follow me?” Alfred asked as Ivan looked up to him curiously. Alfred managed to get out of his grip, and started walking backwards to his bedroom, Ivan following him like a puppy.

“Okay, first question, what do you want?”

“Tu, (you)” Ivan cooed, trying to get closer, Alfred holding him back. Dude went from lazy drunk to horny drunk pretty damn fast. At least he wasn’t loud, aggressive, or abusive.   
Check that off the list.

“Are you sure?”

“Da,” Ivan said, pulling the hands off his chest and pulling Alfred closer, going for his neck, licking around the area and causing Alfred to blush. 

A certain spot between his shoulder and neck caused the American to squeak, it not going unnoticed by Ivan. Alfred moaned as his skin was attacked, feeling the bruise, the mark, start to form where Ivan’s lips met.

It was only so long before Ivan got bored with that spot and moved on, looking for more places to mark.

A sensitive spot under his jaw, under his ear- he almost went to the back of his neck, but Alfred got mad, growling and baring his teeth like a wolf, exposing some fangs he didn’t know he had, with black eye-whites and glowing blue eyes. It was scary, so he backed off.

A pair of cold hands slipped under Alfred’s shirt, feeling along his sides. Bone with thin, strong muscles laying over it. Goosebumps littered wherever his hands touched, leaving rivers along the valleys in Alfred’s form.

Alfred’s legs buckled when cold fingers ran over his nipples, and Ivan pushed him to the wall, letting him use it as support. One of Alfred’s legs wrapped around his waist as Ivan felt down, feeling the arch of Alfred’s hips. Feminine. The Russian wrapped around his arms around, his hands over Alfred’s butt, and pulled Alfred closer.

The American slipped his shirt off and threw it to the side as Ivan rested his head on his shoulder, feeling his body. Alfred kept his hands slung over the others shoulders, his head back and resting against the wall, feeling the chill of the others hands against the nooks in his skin. His body got colder faster -anxiety- so Ivan’s hands started feeling warm as his body chilled.

A hand slipped into his pants and grabbed his butt, and he couldn’t hold in a gasp.

“Moya, (Mine)” Ivan growled, biting down on Alfred’s shoulder.

“Of course~”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivan flopped over, falling asleep almost instantly.

God, he was tired.

Pulling himself off the bed, he went to the bathroom to clean himself, the shower getting turned on almost burning as Alfred pulled off his remaining bandages from wounds made a few nights ago, the first day.

Grabbing an alcohol pad, he ran it over the bruises and bitemarks that littered his neck. He could feel cum running down his legs.

At least he wasn’t marked on the back of his neck. That would bleed instantly and scar over forever, marking him as taken. He knew Ivan had wanted to as well, it’s an instinctual thing. Everyone from the Winema Clan had it, he knew, even the humans that weren’t immortalized got them after just being born near (and technically in) his clan. Immortalized got it after being immortalized, and outside mythical’s developed it after being around them.

It also came with a wedding band.

When he was about three, a necklace containing his wedding band, his partners, and engagement ring was found to have been placed around his neck when he was sleeping. His twin, Conner, got his too.

It always happened.

When Samuel, the oldest immortalized, was transformed, the next day he found his own necklace containing one ring- his own. It wasn’t defined then, but Sam was asexual and aromantic. Almost all of his immortalized were. He wore it everyday on his right hand’s ring finger, declaring himself unmarried while still having a pretty ring. Basically a giant ‘leave me the fuck alone.’

Sighing, he pulled himself away from the sink. Just the knowledge that he would be wearing his engagement and wedding band one day made him… a mix of unproportionally happy and extremely nervous.

Walking into the shower, he winced. The water burned his skin yet calmed his muscles, if he had any still.

He felt sick…

He hadn’t eaten. Well… Ivan wasn’t around to tell him no…

Time to see if he had any alcohol left.

Walking out to the kitchen, he cleaned up the empty bottles up before looking under his counter. One bottle o’ gin. Grabbing it, he popped off the cap and went to chill on the couch.

He fell asleep not long after, bottle empty beside him.

At around 3 am he woke back up and went to go flop down on his bed, the Russian grabbing him and cuddling him. He could hear Hero purring by his pillow, and he had seen Lampushka sprawled out on the kitchen counter.

Next morning would be fun.


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a song in this! It's Moscow by Autoheart!  
> It's a song about two gay Russian soldiers, take that as you will.

Opening his eyes, he sat up, trying to ignore the headache that dulled his senses.

God… what happened…

Yawning, he was pleased to find the shades of the windows closed. Drunk him served Hungover him well. Not well enough to leave any sort of medicine though… chamomile tea…?

“Mornin’,” Alfred yawned beside him, drinking his own cup. He noticed he was in Alfred’s room, and that’s why the shades were closed. Any sort of sunlight near the American made him (or so he’s said) try to set fire to whatever piece of paper he was currently working on.

“Uh… morning,” Ivan looked around the room. It was sort of messy, stuff kicked half-heartedly under the bed. His clothes on the floor and his scarf draped over the end of the bed-

What.

“Would you please kindly explain why the fuck I’m in your bed,” And naked. Ivan shook his head, grabbing the cup of tea and downing the whole thing in a few gulps like that would cure the hangover faster.

“Depends, will you be mad?” Alfred said, pushing himself off the bed. He was wearing a pair of sweats. Why did he get clothes.

“Depends, will you tell me right now?” Ivan replied, getting increasingly uncomfortable. He didn’t like being without his scarf. And pants. Especially around Alfred.

“Well… you decided for some reason that I understood Russian and then we fucked,” Alfred shrugged. 

Was fucked another word for… no…

Oh god he raped Alfred.

He could see it now as his gaze decided to work, the bruises littering his neck and chest. He didn’t seem to be in any pain, then again America was pretty good at hiding his pain.  
“Are you okay?” Alfred asked him, about to reach over and touch him, deciding against it, and placing his hand firmly to his side.

“Give me a chance to get dressed.” Ivan said firmly as Alfred took a few steps back, leaving the room with a taut expression. He stood up and slipped his clothes on, wrapping his scarf firmly around his neck in the small hope it would choke him.

Before he left to his own room, Alfred reaching out for him, but the door closed on him.

He was so disappointed in himself.

He sat in self pity for a few minutes before a phone flew under the door, a melody playing. It was upbeat, yet had a vibe to it that seemed… homoerotic yet dangerous.

“I’m standing, observing, cruising…” the song started, peeking his curiosity.

“Star-bright crystals are forming. We both know what we gotta do- head back to where the magic grew, come on let’s go, back to Moscow.”

That really picked his interest. What was America playing?

Oh wow, a lyric video. Song was called Moscow, so that was something. He didn’t have the heart to stop it, and he could see the shadows shifting as Alfr- America paced outside.

“Irresolution doesn’t suit you, it’s not hard; with you I have an alibi. You don’t care the reason why I misapply, all I need is a fraction of your happy heart. All I need is you.”

An American love song called Moscow? Now he was really confused. Or was this somewhat violent and had an odd ending.

“And beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, you have lips that permanently smolder, when in Moscow I just want to fold you up and keep you warm, keep you warm~”

Still a love song. Where’s the violence America should hate him.

“Snowflakes… are gently… falling… each one… on a… journey…”

Snow meant death.

“We both know what we got to do, head back to where the magic grew, come on, let’s go, back to Moscow~”

Please don’t be a love song…

Please…

“Irresolution doesn’t suit you, it’s not hard; with you I have an alibi. You don’t care the reason why I misapply, all I need is a fraction of your happy heart. All I need is you. And beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, you have lips that permanently smolder, when in Moscow I just want to fold you up and keep you warm, keep you warm~”

Chorus into hatred? Likely.

“I said come here baby, come a little closer,” A voice joined in from the other side of the door, rhythmic and deep, like one would expect a siren to sound, “You’ll write words and I can be composer. Let’s get a dog an Irish Red Setter, that’s all we need to get better~”

“It feels good to not be with a wannabe, I am free whenever you’re in front of me all I need is a fraction of your happy heart, all I need is you,” the voice continued, as Ivan walked to the door, setting a hand on the handle but not opening it.

“We both know what we gotta do, head back to where the magic grew, M-O-S-C-O-W.” God, he sounded beautiful. And desperate for attention. He was a bad person- he left him all alone instead of apologizing. Why was he such an ass…

“You’ve got my heart,” ...he did? “I’ve got your hand,” ...nobody had his hand anymore. That’s what being lonely meant. “So we are safe and sorted!” Were they really. Right now it seemed like Ivan was hiding behind a door and brooding and Alfred was trying to lure him out with his siren voice.

“It's not hard; with you I have an alibi, you don't care the reason why I misapply, all I need's a fraction of your happy heart. All I need is you.” The chorus started again, it seemed like the last. “And beauty's in the eye of the beholder, you have lips that permanently smoulder, when in Moscow I just want to fold you up, and keep you warm.”

“I said come here baby, come a little closer, you'll write words and I can be composer, let's get a dog, an Irish Red Setter, it's all we need to get better,” Mr. Siren sang, his voice alone just making Ivan want to open the door. He never sang like this before, what was happening?

“It feels good to not be with a wannabe, I am free whenever you're in front of me, all I need's a fraction of your happy heart~”

Welp, time to open the door.

“All I need is you~”

Alfred was standing right in front of the door, the last word he had sung hanging off his tongue. Streams of red lined his face, likely tears. His eyes were red and blotchy, and after Ivan opened the door he seemed to try and collect himself.

“I’m sorry…” Alfred whined, taking a few steps closer to him, blue eyes staring up at him like orbs of the noon sky, yet glistening like stars.

Noon shouldn’t have stars.

“For what?” Ivan gently prodded, letting the American into his arms. This felt wrong, he should be the one apologizing. Yet Alfred still curled up under his chin, hands gripping his scarf. He could feel his heartbeat against his chest- slowing down now.

“I’m sorry that I let you have me…” Alfred said, shaking, like he was scared he would be hit, “I didn’t think you’d be… mad… or sad. I’m so sorry.”

Wait, so he didn’t rape Alfred? He had a hard time believing that. They were equal in strength and he had a feeling drunk him was pushy.

“Shh… it’s okay. I was just worried that I hurt you or pressured you…” Ivan cooed softly, petting the American’s hair, “I didn’t do anything like that, right?”

“Oh no, the depressed one can’t say no,” Alfred said, sarcastic undertone. Was he mad now?

“Dude, but seriously, I think I’m the one that says no the most,” Alfred replied, running his nose along Ivan’s lower jaw.

“As long as you’re safe,” Ivan sighed, feeling better than he did previously. He didn’t do anything wrong, besides having sex with Alfred in the first place. What did it mean for their relationship though? Also, what the fuck was Alfred doing right now.

His head rested on the taller’s shoulder, his eyes partly closed like a dozing cat. He seemed content- but still, why?

“So… what’s gonna happen to our relationship?” Ivan asked, worried about everything that could go wrong, “I admit that I have feelings for you.”

“Dude I caught feelings like three days ago, I am perfectly fine with being whatever, just not enemy. Or frenemy. Nothing like an enemy.”

“How about… boyfriend?” Ivan asked sheepishly as Alfred pulled away. He was scared he did something wrong before Alfred did something surprising. He kissed him. Him.  
It took a few moments for the two to get in sync, both having to relearn how to kiss for a second before falling into rhythm. Alfred’s hand weaved into Ivan’s hair, his fingers slipping through the silver locks, his other against his chest. Ivan wrapped his arms loosely around the other’s waist. He could still escape if he wanted too, but Ivan secretly hoped he wouldn’t.

This wasn’t a lustful or ‘I want what you can get me’ kiss. This felt like love. The real question was ‘Is it fake?’ and ‘Is it forced?’.

Alfred pulled away, panting heavily before resting his forehead against Ivan’s.

“Is that a good or bad answer?” Alfred smiled, the tears coming from his eyes starting to fall again. Happiness or fear Ivan had no idea, and it scared him. Would Alfred be afraid of him too? He took away his gun… should he give it back? No… he could hurt himself.

“Please don’t cry!” Ivan exclaimed, cupping the Americans cheeks and wiping his tears with his thumb, “I don’t want you to cry… crying is sad.”

“Crying is just the fat mixed with sauce in your skull releasing excess chemicals,” Alfred replied, shaking his head slightly, “I’m happy, don’t worry!”

And that’s when he started to worry. 

What if he fucked up and Alfred left him? Well, he’d be crushed that’s one thing. Maybe end up suicidal. What about the time they’d spend apart, his bosses homophobia? Shit, he didn’t even know his nation was gay, let alone with Al. Oh god-

A gentle kiss was planted on his lips, his eyes meeting Alfred’s. It was electric, a supernova of color. Mainly blue, but also white, black, brown, purple, and gold. 

He was so pretty… and he was his.

“I told you not to worry, stop worrying.” Alfred giggled, smirking a little. He was being childish, yet there was something more. It had an animalistic tint, like a hyena’s laugh. Desire, but not lust. Needed, but not wanted yet oh so desired.

Mystery mixed with his looks.

“You’re so beautiful…” Ivan muttered without even realizing.

“Curious, that’s exactly what you said when you were drunk.”

Alfred led him to the living room, dancing circles around him in some form of dance, his eyes were closed, and he looked peaceful. The steps were memorized, and it only lasted a minute until Alfred ended up in front of him, bowing with his hand extended, his eyes still closed.

“What are you doing?” Ivan asked as Alfred stood up, his eyes still closed yet a permanent smile on his face.

“Having a bit of fun,” Alfred laughed, coming in closer and wrapping his arms around Ivan’s neck, Ivan setting his on his lower back.

“You really like hugs,” Ivan said, nuzzling into the American’s hair.

“It’s colder when you have anxiety. Memory loss too. I can barely remember what I did yesterday,” Alfred sighed, pulling himself closer.

“That’s okay, I’ll remember for you,” Ivan kissed the top of his head as Alfred giggled.

“And I’ll just sit by? No way,” Alfred whined, “I wanna be able to do something for you, not be some rock.”

“Alfred, you already exist that’s more than enough,” Ivan replied as Alfred went still before blushing madly and trying to drown himself in the Russian’s scarf.

“Don’t be sweet with me, I don’t deserve it,” Alfred said, muffled against the fabric.

“I think I can decide what you deserve,” Ivan growled, malicious intent coming over him as Alfred stilled. 

Alfred went to pull away, Ivan holding on tightly to him. Ivan went for his neck, resting his lips against the skin while Alfred attempted to flee.

He started tickling him.

“No! Fucker! Hahahha,” Alfred fell into laughter, “this is a legitimate torture method!”

“Try to get away,” Ivan chuckled, Alfred still laughing loudly. Alfred flashed him a smile before falling back, pretty much folding in half, his head landing against his lower calf. Ivan was so surprised he almost dropped him, and had long since stopped tickling him.

“I think I got away,” Alfred said, laughing again, still folded in half.

“How are you still breathing?!” Ivan exclaimed, letting Alfred up as the American started laughing so hard he started choking. His face was pure red from being upside down, and he honestly looked… alive, so alive.

Golden hair was flown about, blue eyes as clear and blue as the sky, tan sun-kissed skin. His only definition of beauty.

“I believe I won,” Alfred smirked at him, his eyes full of playful intent as Ivan shook his head in disbelief.

“I believe you did,” Ivan replied, looking at Alfred like he was some sort of strange breed.

‘Awentia or Tala would have my signal by now,’ Alfred thought, continuing to laugh and dance around, ‘God, I hate it when they’re right.’

That little dance wasn’t a dance. It was just a moving spell so that one of his siblings would know that ‘ya, I found my mate.’

His eyes exploded with color as time seemed to stop.

“Dyami!” Caohoma yelled, coming into his view.

They were in the mind-space, a dark place that made you feel like you were falling if you looked down.

“Hey Cao,” Dyami replied, as three more of his sisters came into view. Maikoh, Tala, and Awenita.

He was almost picked up by the wampus cat when she went to hug him, purring loudly as she was around her brother again.

“Figured out who your mate was?” Tala asked with a raised brow, wolf ears erect against her head.

“I sent you the signal, you already know the answer,” he smiled as his sisters went around him, congratulating and hugging him happily. Maikoh even started crying, and while that wasn’t rare for her, it still seemed a little overboard.

And then Awenita dissolved into mist.

“Looks like it’s our time to go,” Maikoh sighed not even batting an eye at Awenita’s disappearance, “Love you little brother, miss you!”

“Love you too!” Alfred waved as the three and himself dissolved back into their own bodies. Time started moving again, and Alfred had to try and remember what was happening. 

He needed… probably food.

“Want anything to eat?” Alfred asked, stopping suddenly as his mind sorted for a few seconds.

“Sure,” Ivan replied, shrugging. He was internally happy that Alfred was gonna eat for himself.

“Hash?” Alfred asked, walking to the kitchen.

“Don’t know what that is, but sure,” Ivan replied, sitting on the couch as Alfred went to cook. He could hear chopping as Alfred diced potatoes and bacon, the only two ingredients. A little oil in the pan, and the diced ingredients were placed in it, salted, and left to cook.

Ivan clicked on the TV, finding one of those early morning action movies playing. It seemed to be a ninja… animated… something. With a talking dog?

After about fifteen minutes of Ivan being confused about what he was watching Alfred came out with two plates, looked at the screen for a few minutes and screamed.

“Scooby Doo? They’re still playing it?!” He seemed really excited, so that was something, “I thought they stopped years ago!”

“What even is this show…” Ivan asked, looking at the energetic American and taking his plate from him.

“It’s Scooby Doo! It came out in ‘69!” Alfred smiled. He obviously liked the show, for whatever reason that might be. “You don’t know it?”

“Alfred, if you do not recall 1969 was the same year me and China were almost about to go to war. I was preparing for that more or less, not watching American cartoons.”  
They didn’t have to bring up the moon landing. There was no point.

“Oh believe me I know about that but it’s still ironic nowadays. This movie only came out in 2009.” Alfred replied nonchalantly, gesturing to the TV. It seemed to be some sort of samurai-ninja thing with Japan being overly technological. Also, talking dog, which already seemed to be ironic in anything meant for kids in America. 

America sat down next to him, cuddling up against his side.

“I’m a trained ninja,” Alfred said, watching the fighting scenes with varying interest.

“Sure.”

“No but really, I trained in Japan. I know ninjutsu, and my master said I was one of the best ninjas he’s trained.” Alfred said, sticking his tongue out at the Russian.

“Al, you couldn’t be a ninja, everyone would know by now,” Ivan replied with a sigh.

“Are you sure?” Alfred said with a raised brow, “Being a ninja is just about killing and getting away with it- just another type of assassin. The acrobatics and the stunts are cool, but a ninja’s job is to kill.”

“...I would have never believed you but now I’m starting too…” Ivan countered, pursing his lips. That was a scary thought. That the one cuddled right next to him killed men for sport and got away with it.

“Have you ever been caught?” Ivan asked as Alfred shimmied closer.

“Once, seven years ago. Friend of mine busted me out,” Alfred replied. He remembered the muzzle tight against his face so he couldn’t bite, the crisp coolness of the metal handcuffs wrapped around his wrist. He knew he could break them. He could do it so easily. But he had to wait. For the gunshots. He knew to wait, then he could break out.   
The orange jumpsuit, his number. God he hated being a number. 11201 was his though. He hadn’t brought his ID, his license, anything. The police thought he might have been a terrorist from Europe. Yet they couldn’t find his name. Alfred F. Jones died in the Vietnam War by snakebite, and no photos of him remained.

All his documents had been destroyed long ago.

“Ouch.” Ivan replied, “But what about your government?”

“I’m their slave, they don’t give a shit 'about me.” Alfred laughed, eerie. He seemed vengeful, some deep hatred for his own government welling inside him.

“That isn’t good,” Ivan replied.

“Meh, it’s better than having to be near sixty year old toddlers.”

Ivan snorted, trying to hold himself back from full out laughing.

“They need a little more than a pacifier to shut up.”

Ya, trying to stop laughing was futile.

“You are horrid,” Ivan laughed, shaking his head as Alfred started laughing alongside him.

“What? It’s true.”

Ivan shook his head, looking at his boyfriend out of the corner of his eye, watching him. 

A genius trapped in stereotypes, a nation trapped in turmoil, and a personification trapped in himself.

Yet… it was the beautiful type of chaos, the aftermath of the bombing, perestroika (rebuilding) he supposed. He hoped he could build him back up, whether he hated Ivan in the end or not.

He hoped he wouldn’t.


	11. 11

The day had passed without anything really happening. Alfred woke up sprawled over Ivan and the Russian chose to laugh at him for it, which was something.

But now. Now it was beautiful. The night sky beckoned him in, the moon a crescent of silver against the black.

He could point out every star in Hydra’s swiveling tunnel of stars, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. It took a few minutes for him to spot Lupus, but eventually he found it.

“Mind if I join you?” A voice said from behind him. It was Ivan, and he smelled like he had hot chocolate.

“Yep,” Alfred said, looking at him as he was handed a big glass of the drink, smiling as he drank it. Ivan sat down beside him, drinking his own cup and looking up at the night sky.

“Deva…” Ivan pointed at Virgo, the stars dominating just above Lupus.

“It’s Virgo in English,” Alfred said, leaning on Ivan.

“Oh,” Ivan mouthed, “Don’t you have a religion based on stars?”

“I have a lot of religions based on stars, you have to be more specific.” Alfred replied, “Zodiac’s the main one. It’s the religion most of my people follow, most without even realizing it’s a religion.”

“Can you explain it? I didn’t understand what it meant.” Ivan asked, looking up at the stars.

“Zodiac is a religion based on the stars, specifically, twelve constellations. Three water, three air, three earth, and three fire. It is then separated into Fire and Air, and Water and Earth. It’s like the Avatar of religions. Depending on what month you’re born in depends on what sign you are, and the main aspects of your personality. For example, Gemini’s are two-faced, Aries are hard-headed, Leo’s are proud, etc, etc.”

“That sounds like something I recognize.” Ivan said, his eyes painting the sky. Alfred felt a buzz against his butt, his phone going off, telling him to answer the fucking text. But he couldn’t. Not right now.

“It’s a modern version of Chinese Taoism, and more astronomical.” Alfred chuckled, watching the sky. A plane flew above them. Owls hooted. The air got colder.

It was almost a half-hour before Ivan looked like he was ready to leave.

“You can leave baby,” Alfred said, kissing his cheek, “I won’t be out that much longer.”

“Alright,” Ivan replied, pecking him on the lips, “Don’t get to cold.”

“I won’t!” Alfred called as Ivan took the glasses that used to be full of hot chocolate inside. After he heard the door click close, and saw the kitchen lights turn off, he stood.  
Walking over to a tree, he jumped onto one of the lowest branches, before seeing his next step and jumping again. The branch below him completely cracked off the tree, landing with a thump of the ground. Alfred ended up in the heart of the tree, curled up between two branches.

Clicking open his phone, he checked his text message. A file on a man not far away. Labeled rapist and abuser.

He heard flapping, and a bird landed on a branch near him. Freedom, his bald eagle.

“Hey Free,” Alfred said, holding his hand out for the bird to sniff. Freedom looked at his hand for a few seconds before using it to scratch the back of her head.

‘Twinie asked me to tell you that you need to kill someone,’ the eagle nodded, talking about Conner.

“Ya, I realized. You can go back home now.” Alfred sighed, checking through the report. Quick money, so who really cared. Not his victims.

‘But I missed Master,’ Freedom tilted her head, squawking weakly at him.

“I know,” Alfred sighed once more, “but you’re endangered, and you’re at risk being out of the valley.”

‘Fine Master. I’ll go back to coop. You’re chair is mine though while you’re gone.” Freedom shook her head, puffing her feathers.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Alfred smiled softly at the bird as she opened her wings to fly away, flying fast enough to disappear from sight in a few seconds.

Standing up from his spot on the tree, he looked for an opening over at the next, jumping onto it, before going to the next. Continuing through the mini woods until he got to the plains, in which he jumped off his tree and dive rolled, saving his ankles the stress.

Then, he started running, his feet getting enough power to kick dust up. It didn’t even take that long before he had run to town, in which he jumped up on top of one of the buildings, sneaking through the rooftops and using Ecosia to figure out where the fuck he was supposed to be going.

It didn’t take long before he found the house.

He didn’t have his lockpicking supplies, and even then he didn’t know about any security. His best option was to blow the houses fuse and wait for the man to come out himself to fix the box. What was his name again? Like… Evan or something? Might have been Allen… no wait, Devin. It was Devin. Maybe.

Looking at the entire backyard for cameras, he found it clean of anything that might betray him and jumped the fence. He made sure to be careful, after all the lights were on through the curtains on the sliding door. The electrical box was sitting on the side of the house for anyone to come along and destroy, although he was pretty sure he was the only one around that could do what he was about to do. Checking one last time for anyone outside, he didn’t see anyone and placed his hand on the metal box.

His eye-whites turned black. He found himself a pulse of electricity inside himself and channeled it, blue ‘lightning’ surging out of his fingers and frying the box. The lights in the window went out. The ones in the other houses stayed on.

He heard a loud shout and took his chance, climbing up onto the rooftop, looking down at the electrical box. It took a few minutes before Allen came out. Wait, no, was it Devin? I mean, he looked like a Devin. Or a Matt. He could see later.

“What the hell?” the man said, touching the box gingerly. It was charred black.

Alfred let out a slight hum. Before slipping off the roof and onto the man.

He was really light, so the man immediately shook him off, but it only took a second before Alfred had the man’s face in his grip. The man opened his mouth, but he didn’t get the chance to speak.

His head was juiced like someone would a lemon.

“Gross…” Alfred muttered, flicking his hand to clear the excess blood. He grabbed the body by its foot and dragged it into the house, throwing it into the table before checking around for any sign of life. He thought he checked the entire house before he noticed something.

There were skid marks leading from the door. Someone who had rubber shoes was dragged inside, likely today.

Following the marks through the house, he opened the door that he had thought was the pantry.

A staircase led down to a basement.

Fuuuuuck.

His heels clicked as he went down to the basement. It was a completely stone room. 

A woman laid inside, her eyes dull. She didn’t smell dead, and her chest was rising, so that was a relief. She also didn’t seem physically injured, besides a bleeding forehead.  
She was either asleep, or knocked out.

Walking over slowly, he picked up one of her hands, letting it flop back down beside her, finding no reaction. Grabbing her right hand, he brought it up to his nose, smelling for what drug it was. Some sort of tranquilizer pill. She would be out for the whole night.

Checking the time, he saw that it was 12 am. She was likely picked up at 7 pm, so she’s been here for about five hours.

Looking to her purse beside her, he found her phone. 13 missed calls from a girl named Lydia. Answering the call, it was answered immediately.

“Oh my God Tiff! You worried the shit out of me!” Lydia exclaimed as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Your ‘Tiff’ isn’t available right now. She got picked up by a labeled assailant and rapist.” Alfred replied as he heard the girls breath catch, “She’s safe now, can you come to this address?”

“Yes, of course, right away!” Lydia said as Alfred told her the address. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes!”

Alfred slipped the phone back into her purse as the call finished. Picking up both that and the girl, making sure to keep any blood off her. He had to have a shower, his entire left hand and arm was covered in blood. Well, Devin-Matt guy seemed to have running water…

Walking up the stairs, he found the bathroom and laundry room, washing his shirt, and washing himself in about fifteen minutes before exploring the house, looking for anything valuable. Fake china, plastic ornaments, shitty cosmetics. This was pointless.

He did find a small case of, likely, stolen jewelry. He took it for himself. Rubys, sapphires, diamonds, alexandrite, topaz, garnet, aquamarine, amethyst. He clearly stole anything that was remotely shiney. He put it in his back pocket and got his wash, throwing his shirt over his shoulder instead of drying it. That took to long. There was nothing more in this house that interested him, so he had to wait for Lily to get here. Wait… Lily? Lydia. It was Lydia.

Probably.

It only took another five minutes before the doorbell rang. He checked to see that it was indeed another girl around the same age as… Liv? Tiff. Where did he get Liv from.

Names sucked.

“Stay out of the house, I’ll get her for you,” Alfred said as he opened the door, the girl nodded wildly before Alfred went to grab Tiff, putting her purse on her stomach so he didn’t have to carry her. Lydia let him to her car, in which he placed Tiff in the backseat and strapped her in, leaning her head against the door.

“Uh sir, how can I be sure… you aren’t the assailant.” Lydia said, her hands on her phone. Do not call 911. He did not want to get arrested again.

“I saw him drag her in and broke in, knocked him out.” Alfred replied, “You can call the cops, tell ‘em that it was the Eagle Smith! That’s my name, I want cash.”

“Oh…” she muttered, looking to her sleeping friend, “I’ll make sure to. Thank you, Eagle.”

“No problem,” Alfred waved before running. He was lucky this was a shitty neighborhood and there were no cameras.

He fled the crime scene, jumping roofs back to the fields, running through them, until he got the woods, jumping from tree to tree like he did before until he found the house.  
Jumping back down into the yard, he went through the backdoor into the house. He was chilled to the bone outside, so he let out a large sigh as he finally came into a place that did not have the entirety of the Russian winter sitting it’s ass cheeks on the night.

Two opposite ends of the spectrum. Russian Winter - Satan’s Ass Cheeks.

One’s hot and you literally want the air conditioner to eat you and the other is freezing and you want the heater to start licking you.

He laughed as his own little joke before checking the time. 2 am.

That’s not good.

Hanging his wet shirt in the laundry room, he slowly crept into Russia’s bedroom.

Ivan was up, staring out of the window with tears in his eyes.

“If it’s a bad time…” Alfred started, Ivan’s eyes snapping towards him.

“You disappeared Al! I worried about you! Where did you go?” Ivan asked, taking a few steps towards him like he was trying to intimidate. Alfred held his ground, his arms crossed over his chest. The scars that had been made a few days ago stood silver in the moonlight, flashing right at Ivan in some sort of bad omen.

“Car broke down not far away, I helped bring it into town,” Alfred said, glaring at the Russian. Try and intimidate him? Ya, he’ll show you what he’s made of.

“You could have told me, where’s your shirt?” Ivan sighed, coming a little closer, more timidly this time.

“Dude at the car place washed it, it got just drenched in oil and coolant or something. I don’t remember,” Alfred shook his head, making hand motions as he talked, making signs in ASL at himself so he could figure out his story. His body said oil but his mind said stereotypical.

Ivan let out a sigh before hugging him, Alfred wrapping his arms around his neck carefully.

Why did his mind just realize that Russia could break his back in this position. But would he… likely not. If he did it would just heal in a few seconds and he could get revenge.  
Alfred put his glasses on the dresser after Ivan let go of him, the Russian leading him to the bed. 

The two fell asleep almost instantly.


	12. 12

Opening his eyes, he found himself in a completely dark room. It didn’t look like he was standing on anything, and when he looked down he felt like he was gonna vomit. How far did that go down?

Then, a man appeared.

He looked… kinda like Alfred. He had the cowlick, blue eyes… the base skin tone. Except that wasn’t him. That couldn’t be.

It took him a few minutes to realize that his eye-whites were black, his eyes also surrounded by an abyss of black that smoked away from his eyes. His hair ended in the same color, but the roots were black. He had reddish brown stripes running across his body like a tiger, covering his chest, back, neck, face, arms, and probably lower. Serrated claws that seemed even shinier in whatever light this place got, his ears seemed to fall into a slight point, and he also noticed that… he was wearing the same clothes Alfred had been wearing, a black pair of cargo pants with no glasses or shirt, and this person was doing the same dance around him that Alfred was doing a few days ago.

“Uh…” he muttered as the person finished, just like Alfred had, with his hand out to him. Like last time, he didn’t take it.

“Hehe…” the man came up, smiling at him. Fangs glistened in his mouth, easily long enough to puncture a throat. He also sounded just like Alfred, but with a different tint to his voice. More demonic and animalistic.

“Who are you?!” Ivan asked, backing a few steps away. He didn’t exactly want to see if those teeth could really get someones neck,“Why am I here? Where is here?”

“Do you know the story of Pinnochio? The puppet?” he tilted his head, closing his eyes and smiling, “Well, say if someone like your little darling had his ability. God, his nose could go to space and back if that was the case!”

“What are you going on about?” Ivan questioned, figuring out who ‘your little darling’ was pretty quickly, “Alfred is a liar, but not that much of one.”

“Hmm… I do suppose if you cut it off it would stop growing…” the man said, opening his eyes and scratching his neck. He looked like he was contemplating, “trees don’t grow back after they get chopped down after all.”

“Um… what are you going on about?”

“It’s almost surprising, I guess,” the man laughed. It was booming and deep, with the scratchy echo of a growl, “you can lie as much as you want as long as you never get caught. And with someone so defensive? Of course darling will be good at it!”

“I have no idea who you are, but I have a feeling you’re talking about Alfred,” Ivan replied, backing away even further, “who are you? How do you know who he is?”

“Well… seems like I’m running out of time,” the man said, holding up his hand. It was slowly dissolving, “remember sweetie: you can’t invent a face!”

He disappeared.

Ivan awoke with a start, gripping his chest before letting out a shaky sigh of relief. He gave himself time to breathe for a few minutes, taking off his scarf and throwing it to the side. He was covered in cold sweat.

Looking over to his side, he saw Alfred, fast asleep on his stomach with his mouth open, soft snores coming from him. Hero was laying on his back, probably the reason he was snoring, looking pretty content.

Laying back down, he looked over to his love, studying him closely. Some drool ran down his chin, and his lips were chapped, but he didn’t really notice anything else. He brushed his hair away from his face and caught a tiny glimpse of something. Going from his temple to his chin was a thin white scar, almost the same tone as his skin, and it was deeper near his temple and at a weird angle, like he had been attacked from above. Well, now he knew what he was looking for.

He only found a few more. A scar that ran from his eye and through his mouth, a few slits in his right eyebrow, a pretty bad one under his bangs that went into his hairline. Aftermath of scrapes on both his cheeks, tiny little scars from when he broke his glasses, a few tiny slits in his eyelashes where they were shorter from past scars that had faded. The evidence of a lot of busted lips, and it seemed like he had gotten a broken nose more than a few times, but the wound had been set in a way that preserved his bone structure.

He cupped Alfred’s cheek, the American subconsciously leaning on him.

“Nooooo… I wanna go to sleepy time junction…” Alfred muttered in his sleep (or awakeness he supposed), Hero jumping off as he rolled over like a cat, his entire back cracking as he arched into the Russian.

“Good morning dorogoy,” Ivan said, forgetting his dream. Well, more like a nightmare. His Alfred was not that… demon thing. He sat up before Alfred could smack a foot against him. Nobody needed ice on their calf this early.

But still, the thing’s last words stuck to him like glue.

“..wha…?” Alfred said, wincing as his hips popped, rolling back over to his stomach before looking around confused, spotting Ivan, sitting up, and tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. He had a good dream. He got to kill the ‘Hit or Miss’ person.

“Your glasses are on the dresser,” Ivan directed as Alfred looked around, eventually figuring out which way the dresser was and picking up his glasses, putting them on.  
“What time is it?” Alfred asked, looking over to him as he popped his shoulders. He also wanted to ask why it smelled like fear in here, but he got over it pretty fast, walking over as Ivan picked up his phone.

It was already twelve-thirty.

“Looks like we aren’t going anything today,” Alfred yawned, wrapping his arms around Ivan and cuddling into him.

“We need to eat, specifically you,” Ivan said, petting Alfred’s hair, the soft, somehow untangled locks drifted through his fingers.

“Fine…” Alfred muttered, getting up before walking to his room as Ivan shook his head. They both got ready, Alfred taking off his pants and putting on pajamas, and Ivan changing into regular clothes.

“Lunch or breakfast…?” Alfred mumbled, walking into the kitchen.

“Whatever you prefer to make,” Ivan shrugged.

“Got it, dinner,” Alfred said, taking a chicken breast out of the fridge and setting it on the counter, walking over and getting a pot from under the sink, filling it with water and let it boil.

“We need groceries,” Alfred said, walking over to Ivan while the water boiled, “we’re gonna be out of milk, and I need baking ingredients and alcohol. Food to, but that’s less important.”

“For what?” Ivan asked, looking over to him.

“You drank all my booze and I have a party in like a week and know I’ll forget,” Alfred yawned again, looking over wistfully at the boiling pot of water, silently telling the little shit to hurry up because he was tired. At least he got enough sleep and didn’t have to break up with Ivan to marry the coffee machine.

He left when he heard the water boiling, plopping the chicken in and leaving it at a medium boil, taking out a casserole dish and set it on the counter before walking back to Ivan, flopping over his lap on the couch as the two watched Charmed. Alfred watched it, specifically the fight scenes, and Ivan was confused.

Twenty minutes later Alfred pushed himself off the couch and turned the boiling water off, the chicken effectively cooked. Grabbing a can of cream of mushroom soup out of the pantry, he popped the tab and grabbed a bowl, smacking the bottom until the soup poured out. He then mixed it with milk until it was creamy. He then got a stack of corn tortillas and threw them in the microwave for about thirty seconds, grabbing a knife and cheese from the fridge.

Taking the tortillas out of the microwave, he cut them into triangles, taking his casserole dish and layering the bottom, putting a layer of the cream of mushroom-milk mixture, and cutting the chicken, layering it next, then a layer of cheese, then tortillas. Continuing for a few layers until the dish was almost at the top, which he put the last layer of tortilla, the last of the cream of mushroom, and a lot of cheese.

Fuck... oven got to preheat. 

335… and then it needs like… five minutes to actually get hot. 

Walking back over to Ivan, he nuzzled into his scarf, breathing in his comforting scent. For whatever reason, he started crying, and Ivan twisted around to see what was wrong, silently kissing his tears away.

“What’s wrong little angel?” Ivan cooed, resting his forehead against the others.

“I’m failing. I don’t know at what, but I’m failing,” Alfred said, shuddering and pulling away to look around. What was going on? He was fine, he was safe?  
No he wasn’t, something was wrong. His eyes flashed for a second and he saw fire. Oh shit… probably in California. It would likely be fine, they’re used to it over there and it is the beginning of summer. Well, spring.

“Dorogoy?” Ivan’s head tilted, cupping his cheek.

“There’s fires in California. Again,” Alfred took a deep breath and breathed out, “it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Ivan asked as Alfred calmed down, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Yep, happens every year,” Alfred nodded as the oven beeped. It only took a few seconds before Alfred shot over and put his casserole in, before flopping back over on the couch.  
Hero jumped on his stomach and laid down, Alfred staring at her with an annoyed look. Lampushka took the armchair, staying there for the time being.

The two just relaxed for the time being, enjoying each others company and chatting. Ivan realized Alfred wasn’t as much as a chatterbox as he was during meetings, and he also realized it was probably extremely forced. Alfred had said he had social anxiety afterall, and he didn’t seem to like the nations. He complained about England a lot, particularly how mean he was to Alfred about everything he did. Ivan could agree, although most countries left him alone.

There’s always that one person who needs a chill pill as big as Mt. Everest.

“What do you do in your free time?” Ivan asked, looking over to him, “You can’t spend all that time watching TV.”

‘I don’t have free time,’ Alfred thought, ‘I have kids, a ranch, a farm, and multiple jobs.’

“Surprising enough, since I make most of my own money, I get part-time at animal rescues and ranches,” Alfred sighed, “I’m on the road a lot. Worked at a lot of places, yet I can never just stay in one place. Not for me. Sleep in my car for weeks at a time if I can’t find a flat like this or an apartment.”

“That can’t be very good for you,” Ivan looked over at his love.

“Meh, it’s what works for me.”

“What about when your government calls you in to do paperwork?” Ivan asked. He had to do his own share, and rarely got paid for it. His cash was tied to what the government gave him a month, and he didn’t really have to work for it besides signing papers.

“Ain’t my job. They got people for that, don’t really bother with me,” Alfred stretched his arms over his head, “they want me to live the American dream. Get a wife, have a son and daughter, be a homophobic, transphobic, republican piece of shit, ya know, the works.”

(Republicans, don’t take offense. Our president is a republican, that’s why I said that.)

“...Is your government homophobic?”

“My vice president said that they should use tax money to put every LGBTQ+ person in conversion therapy.” Alfred growled, “Do you know what that is?”

“Not a clue, but I feel like it’s bad.” Ivan replied. In Russia, they just threw gay people who were being overly annoying in prison.

“Straight jacket, electroshock, circle time, shit like that, the fuckery you wouldn’t even see in an asylum,” Alfred shook his head, gripping his fist before angrily petting Hero, who glared at him. Lampushka looked up too, resting his head on the arm of the chair.

“Oh… very not good,” Ivan nodded, “if you wouldn’t mind me asking… have you ever been…?”

“Once, I’d rather not talk about it,” Alfred looked away. He could barely remember it anyways.

Cuffs… and he got a muzzle? No… that was when he got arrested during the same decade. The memories blended. He knew he got a straight jacket, and he knew Samuel was the one that saved him. There was arguing, but he couldn’t remember who was yelling. He was only there a week… or was it two? Samuel had said something about him going missing and the government not telling him where he was. He remembered Sami, Bodaway, and Lani leading children away from him. Cole said something about him being in shock? Or… no that was Lani- Marco. It was Marco. His siblings went ballistic, and Rulyn was the one that bandaged his wounds. Samuel didn’t know what to do with them, he would be going to college for his… 7th degree in medicine since the Revolutionary War after another year. He remembered the date he got let out though. February 16, 1975. Two years after America left Vietnam. A week later he removed himself from the government, removing every memory of him and his family from his officials, and becoming invisible.  
Best decision he’d ever made.

‘Angel boy, your fading from reality a little,’ Lampushka purred, looking at him through lidded eyes. Alfred snapped back, shaking his head out like a dog and cracking his neck, trying to get his mind back on track.

“I won’t make you do anything,” Ivan walked over and kissed him on the forehead, “but know I’m here.”

“Your in front of me, I know you’re there,” Alfred said, tilting his head. Ivan shook his head as both Hero and Lampushka started laughing. Ivan couldn’t hear them, thankfully, cause cats sound like depressed bears when they laugh.

“Dork,” Ivan chuckled, nuzzling into his hair.

Alfred just smiled in return.


	13. 13

The sound of running water from the kitchen filled the house as Alfred slipped on his shoes. A few seconds of clanking as Ivan put the dishes in the dishwasher before he came beside him, slipping on his own shoes.

His chin was lifted, and a kiss was placed on his lips. 

“What was that for?” Alfred asked, tilting his head.

“You’re cute.”

“Are you drunk again?”

“You are going to make fun of me for that forever aren’t you?” Ivan questioned, already knowing the answer. Alfred started giggling, just proving his point.

Grabbing his wallet and keys, the two walked to the car, him getting in the driver’s seat and Ivan taking shotgun. Turning on the radio, he broke the silence.

Ivan hummed along to the radio. The two weren’t even mad at each other. Neither felt like talking. To early anyways.

It took about forty-five minutes to get to where they were going. Walmart. Ivan looked surprised by the sheer size of the building, if not the amount of people around. It was nine in the morning on a Tuesday. Why were there so many people here.

“Why is there a market bigger than the Colosseum in front of me?” Ivan asked, looking over as Alfred laughed and got out.

“This one ain’t even that big,” Alfred giggled, the two walking through the streets. Two Karen’s were fighting in the middle of the street, but both men ignored them, “Also, watch it. Your perception of time will get freaky as soon as you enter.”

Alfred got a cart, and Ivan followed behind him as the two entered the store.

“Why is there a market that touches every horizon?” Ivan asked, looking around. He noticed an older woman stare at him a few minutes before fleeing. He was curious, but it didn’t matter.

“Because, capitalism,” Alfred replied nonchalantly. He took a notepad out of his pocket and ripped off the first page, handing it to him.

“Uh... “ Ivan stuttered, taking it and looking it over, “I’m… not that good at English. Reading is difficult for me.”

“There’s always one person in a store that speaks Russian. They’ll be white, and they’ll be very, very loud. Not that hard to find,” Alfred shrugged, “I’m gonna be around.”  
Alfred waved at him, taking the cart and walking off.

Time to play a game of match the word. What was flour? Tsvety ili muka? (Flower or flour?)

Probably muka.

And he should probably get a basket. Grabbing one from outside he started walking towards… baking was like making cookies and shit, baker was someone who made cookies, and bakery is where you get the cookies. And cookies got flour.

Sure.

Walking over to the bakery aisle, he tried to silently figure out whether walking five minutes to find something was plausible. Seemed it was.

He was lucky. Most of the stuff Alfred had given him was in the same aisle. Next… milk area. Where all the cheese was. Word escaped him.

Four boxes of cream cheese, greek yogurt, sour cream, stuff like that. No idea what it was for, but Alfred wanted it so whatever. 

Another good question was why the fuck does someone need four boxes of cream cheese. Actually, some nice American who realized the imperial system was weird put the conversions. Why would he need 900 grams of cream cheese?

Watch it would be something extremely weird and unnecessary. Or completely necessary and he just didn’t understand.

Now he just had to find Alfred. Easier said than done.

He ended up finding him near the entrance after covering half the store.

“I hate this place,” Ivan growled, looking around. People have been giving him looks the entire time he was here.

“Dude you’re wearing a scarf and a sweater. What do expect?” Alfred chuckled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“... I don’t know…” Ivan replied as Alfred started snickering.

“C’mon, let’s go check out,” Alfred led him over to an array of checkout lines. There didn’t seem to be that many people.

Eventually they checked out, and the two went back to the car.

“Are we going back to the house now?” Ivan asked as Alfred pulled out of the lot.

“Nope,” Alfred said, looking through the area, “Ross. I have people who need birthday presents.”

“Uh…”

“Clothes store.”

“Oh…” Ivan mouthed, suddenly getting nervous. Was it rumor how long Americans took with clothes, or not. He had no idea how most of this worked.

Leaving the bags in the car, they went into the other big store and Ivan felt an underlying sense of dread fill his entire being.

Alfred seemed to know what he was doing, so Ivan just followed behind him. 

A few hours later, and Ivan was slowly dissolving into thin air. Alfred seemed to work fast, but he was going down his list of people one at the time and kept repeating what he was going over. But they got a full cart. And they paid. And they left.

It only took half an hour to get back to the house, probably because Alfred was speeding. They pulled into the driveway and the two carried the bags inside the house. Alfred put them away, and Ivan got a beer and propped himself on the couch.

After about fifteen minutes, Alfred flopped over his lap and curled up.

“What’s wrong?” Ivan asked, petting his hair.

“I had to talk to people…” Alfred muttered, “ and I want to burn the Anti-Vaxx.”

“Um… okay,” Ivan chuckled, “what did they do?”

“Kill children.”

Ivan could not find a response to that one. He did not expect that at all. What even was anti-vaxx? Cult? Sounded like a cult. 

“PETA and Flat Earth Society too…” 

“Uh… what did they do?” Ivan asked, not really wanting to know. Flat Earth Society sounded like someone expected a map to float.

“PETA keeps killing peoples pets, and the Flat Earth Society is stupid as fuck,” Alfred growled, rolling over. He stole Ivan’s beer and took a sip before giving it back.

“What… is happening in your country?”

“Some odd racist form of nationalism and not enough wine,” Alfred giggled, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Ivan’s neck, pulling himself up and into a hug.

“Are you drunk?”

“I want to be,” Alfred shrugged, cuddling into him. Ivan wrapped a hand around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Why did you need so many gifts? That’s at least enough for… seventy people,” Ivan asked, recalling all the stuff he grabbed.

“For my old bosses. I want to stay in their good graces in case I ever get thrown into a tough spot, ya know?”

“My government gives me money,” Ivan deadpanned.

“Ya got to have a second plan though.” Alfred said, tilting his head, “What if prices get inflated and your paycheck remains? What if you don’t break even one month and need a second plan before the FBI finds you?”

“... you worry too much,” Ivan scolded, nuzzling into his hair.

“Um… no I don’t,” Alfred replied, “I worry enough to survive. That’s all you need to do.”

“Alfred, it isn’t the 1700s. We can survive and do more now,” Ivan said, smiling, “we can go to space. We can go to Mars. We don’t have to worry about illness- we aren’t dying in meaningless wars-”

Alfred slumped against him.

“Oh…” Ivan said as Alfred started to cry, “no, I’m so sorry please don’t cry.”

“T-they did a test. They raised the minimum wage to a living wage… and army enlistment dropped 85%. They tax but we don’t get benefits. Just fake promises and lies.”

“Shhh…” Ivan cooed. His government didn’t bother to do that. They didn’t find any reason when they were only focusing on the Ukraine and Georgia. And his people got free healthcare as long as they worked.

But the country that had bases in every other country- there had to be people. People made something look powerful. If something was backed by millions, it would look better to the eye than something backed by hundreds or thousands.

And power meant everything. He had been enlightened by this. Alfred’s seemingly hatred towards his government- his government not employing him.

It was so he held no power. So he would be a puppet.

Either that, or his government just didn’t know of his existence. But his Director of Nation. They did, they had that asshole that knew what he was and what he was doing with his life. 

“You’re lucky,” Alfred muttered, being rocked, “you’re government wouldn’t hurt you.”

“They have, but that was long ago,” Ivan replied softly, “the last person who ever did hurt me was Stalin.”

“Stalin was 5’4,” Alfred said, suddenly starting to laugh, “he hurt you? Dude, your 6’4. That’s almost fucking comedical. It’s like the Tom & Jerry episode where Jerry takes testosterone or whatever and fucking kicks Tom’s ass.”

“...I might have been able to see the top of his head… constantly…” Ivan muttered, blushing slightly and trying to hide his face in his scarf.

“See? If you fear the past, just make it a joke!”

“Is that why you joke about the fall of the USSR?” Ivan looked over to him.

“It started so younger kids would stop fearing what their parents told them about it. Then it continued. Now you have people who salute to the communist anthem,” Alfred chuckled, “and an overabundance of young almost-communists. I blame you.”

“Revolting of your people?”

“... I’d rather not talk about that,” he looked away.

He could sense the unrest. Angry people who were mad that they were trapped.

After it all, the easiest way to oppress a country is to tell them they’re free. North Korea has used the same tactic, although they’re more obvious about it.

And now it’s a joke about how the government watches you constantly. 

(My FBI agent is quaking rn)

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ivan said, pulling the American back, even tighter than before. They were in the same boat, except America had status behind him. People would look down when they knew. They already looked down on him- the last to lose. Second place.

They needed to stay like that for a little longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y’all remember when that British dude called America poor? And when the German Broadcasting Company (it’s called DC) made an entire documentary on why America was poor? I do. It was kinda funny because I never realized it wasn’t normal in Europe.


	14. 14

Gulping, she tried to remove the clump of eyeliner from her eye. Why’d it get stuck now? The alarm had already gone off, and she wouldn’t be able to get food if-

Actually, that didn’t sound so bad…

Actually, Rulyn would probably be watching for her. Fuck, why couldn’t she be treated as an adult?! She was… fifteen!

Rulyn was only- how old was Rulyn? Young twenties? See, not that much older!

Wait, she was older than Rulyn by much more. Ha ha, she knew best for herself! Actually, Samuel was older than her and had given the same advice… uh…

“Hey, little sis’, hurry up,” a voice said from the door, her eyes snapping towards her brother. His black hair was waxy like it needed to be washed- or like he was stressed, and bags were under his eyes.

“What do you want Columbia?” she growled, looking accusingly at him like it could solve all her problems. He didn’t respond, but he did raise a brow.

The personification of the District of Columbia walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug.

“What’s wrong?” he said, combing her hair out slightly with his fingers.

“Nothing,” she grumbled, gripping into his shirt. Her sibling did nothing in return, trapping her in his grasp.

“Tell, or I crush you,” he warned, his grip starting to tighten uncomfortably.

“Fine fucker! Let go I can’t breath!”

“Spill the tea or the revolution was for nothing.”

“You weren’t even alive during the revolution!”

“You weren’t either!”

Columbia let out a sigh and held her tighter, his sister gasping before squirming and trying to get away, eventually pounding on his chest and trying her best.

“When you try your best and you don’t succeed~” he sang, California starting to look like she would scream.

“Fine-” she choked out, starting to cough- “I didn’t want to eat.”

“Well, looks like I’m dragging you to the dining hall,” Columbia said, smiling down wickedly at his little sister, giving her enough room to breath before throwing her over his shoulder.

“What-” California screeched, trying to kick him, “you little bitch! Put me down!”

Columbia just laughed.

A few of their siblings ran along beside them. Alaska chased York down the hall- Hampshire and Jersey walked side by side, following behind the third triplet as he was chased. Maine and Massachusetts were arguing. Over what, she didn’t know. Vermont was saying something to Wisconsin about maple syrup. 

Nobody tried to help her. Most had decided a long time ago that if you were getting carried/beaten/chased it was their own fault.

“Oh wow, someone caught a living doll,” Texas’ voice said from behind her and she could feel Columbia laugh against her thigh. A blush spread across her face, and she tried to kick Columbia again.

“Oh c’mon, play nice,” Columbia cooed to the Texan as the two fell in step, California still trying to squirm and get away but being dwarfed in strength. They both had super strength, but his was stronger being the capital.

“Hey! What are you doin’ asshole!” Florida said, noticing California’s struggle. Running over, she slapped Columbia on the back of the head and motioned for him to square up.

“None of your business Flor.”

“None of my business? You’re hurting my breed dude,” Florida growled, a smile stretching across her face, “square up, let’s see who wins.”

“Uh…”

“Put her down or I’ll sick Marsh on you,” Florida said. At the mention of her twelve foot bull gator, Columbia got the idea and put her down, California instantly punching him square in the face.

“Le go,” Florida said, green eyes sparkling with violent intent as the two ran towards the dining hall.

“Oh we are so fucked,” Cali chuckled, finally breaking out into a smile. It didn’t seem so bad now.

“Ha! Dare I say… Uncle Conner-”

“Ew!” California exclaimed, shaking her head as the two went down the stairs, jumping on the inner railing and sliding down the twisting staircase.

The two jumped off as they got to the bottom, running all the way to the dining hall, panting like they’d run a marathon as they got through the doors.

She got a few greetings from some of the humans, and some of her uncles and aunts asked what she’d been doing that she was panting so hard. 

‘Ah, down from adrenaline,’ they’d say, giving her a look, ‘tell Columbia to come find me later.’

Well, someone was getting in trouble and she wasn’t even mad.

She got breakfast, not even bothering to eat light. Fuck, what was the point? None of this stuff was that bad either, lots of bread though, so that was something.

“Hey, Aunt Ana!” Florida yelled from beside her, “Do we get alcohol if we’re good kids?!”

Anatasia started laughing as Rulyn looked over to them with a look that said it all.

“NO!” she yelled back like a concerned parent as the entire table burst out laughing. 

“Aw, let the kid have a shot or two!” Alexei said from beside Rulyn.

“Alex,” Rulyn called, “can you get on the table?”

Looking at her confused, he climbed up. As he stood on the table looking down at her Sami -who was beside Anatasia- smacked his legs out from under him. The entire table burst out laughing.

“I wish mom was here,” she said, smiling ever so slightly.

“I know Cal, but he ain’t,” Florida said, wrapping and arm around her shoulders, “he once told me when I was real little: we gotta make our own memories, even when every single one doesn’t have him in it.”

“Yes, but how can he leave so much- does he even miss us when he’s gone? We aren’t allowed to be around the nations. We aren’t allowed to be around him.”

A pang in her chest hit her like a blow and she focused on eating. She knew the answer to her question, but if you love someone so much why do you leave so long?

“He has to protect us,” Florida said, looking over the people, “protect this- he built this house with his bare hands seven years after the Revolutionary War, Samuel taking care of lil’ baby Delaware all the way to the ginger twins,” she was talking about Rhode and Connecticut, “and he did it because he wanted somewhere safe. He met the de Veaux family after and their kids had their kids and had more kids and now they’re the human family here. He started finding his siblings not long after- Davie appeared as a damn babysitter from Hell.”

“Look around,” she sighed, “see the empire mom’s built.”

“‘Learn the lessons of the past so the same mistake is not made twice,’” California recited, remembering her mother say that to her one day when he was teaching her Europe’s history, “he was talking about the fall of Rome, wasn’t he?”

“Of course he was,” Florida said, taking in a breath and letting it out, “except the other countries are either the barbarians or allies- and we don’t know. I’d rather not find out the hard way with everything going on.”

“Agreed,” she said, shaking her head and finishing her meal. Florida followed behind her as she threw her plate in the dishwasher system and walked out, following the hallways to the main entrance. Coahoma and Celestia walked by, the latter going in and the former going out.

“Cal, Flor,” Michael said, attempting to catch up to them. He wasn’t in his overly defensive ‘badass’ mode, making him look softer instead of… not. He wasn’t lucky, a nation had stumbled upon him smoking a joint outside of the meeting hall and had spoken to mom about his people being rude, to which Michael had gotten defensive and accidentally called him ‘dad’ (thank god he didn’t say mom) and now all the nations knew about him. Mom didn’t even ground him, just told him to not tell anything.

The other outside micronations enjoyed pressuring him into doing stuff, and mom shrugged it off. Even gave him his own truck as long as he paid for the gas and didn’t wreck it.  
He was one of the four personified micronations. Celestia, the Nation of Celestial Space, Yoani, the Conch Republic, and Justin, North Dumpling Island. So like Uncle Noah but way less cool.

“Where ya goin’?” he asked, his normal white towel around his neck. She still held the belief that he looked better when he didn’t hold both middle fingers up. He was one to not care, but still.

“Dunno,” Cali said, looking to Flor, “where are we going?”

“I gotta let Marsh and the rest of the Gators out, still can’t figure out why y’all are following me,” she said, looking at them, “I mean, I don’t mind, but still.”

“Oh,” Michael mouthed before looking over to his sister, “so, what happened between you and York this morning. All I saw was you punching him”

“He squeezed me.”

“...how…”

“You all have the minds of slugs,” she sighed, “like a hug Mr. Dirty Minded.”

“In my defense, that was horribly worded,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. She couldn’t fight him, he was right.

“And then I didn’t give the correct answer and he slung me over his shoulder and I was stuck there until Flor came and saved me.”

“What was the question?”

“That.”

“Okay, give an actual answer this time,” he said, giving her a mini glare. It held no fire, and she easily brushed it off.

“What’s wrong,” she said. There wouldn’t be much going on until Rulyn or Cole started the stables, and she was also curious about the lambs. She knew Ajax was in charge, but that was the limitation of her knowledge.

“There’s no wrong answer to that question,” he said, taking a deep breath. A few dogs ran about, and a fluffy cat carried a mouse around in its jaws.

“I know right?”

“He deserved the hit,” Michael said, looking up. By now they were about a quarter of the way to the alligator area, “shouldn’t have touched you.”

“Is it just me or does your entire conversation sound like the ‘All women are queens- if she breathes she a thot’ argument except all it is, is the ‘all women are queens’ part.” Florida interjected, an amused look on her face.

“What, it’s true. Women are queens.”

“Would your other personality say that?”

“Okay, nows your time to shut the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up,” Michael growled.

“I will show you my Florida man-”

California couldn’t stop herself from breaking down laughing.

“What- oh,” was all Florida said before laughing to, Michael thinking for a minute before snorting, California laughing more at the noise he made.

“C’mon,” Michael cooed, helping her up from where she’d fallen to her knees in her laughing fit, “Let’s go get Florida’s stupid gator out of it’s impenetrable cage.”

“Hey-” Florida started, but California had already started laughing again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alfred,” Ivan said huskily over his ear, “you’ve been awake for almost a half hour and you still haven’t moved, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I don’t think I will be today,” Alfred replied, wincing. His muscles ached, and his heart ached as well. He wanted to be home- but his soul was with its mate and yet he felt like he didn’t belong yet it felt so right, but also like Ivan should be in his bed back at home. Like he should be playing with the kids and holding his hand under the table and getting glares from his older siblings and-

He curled up more, crying out as his body screamed in return.

“Dorogoy? Darling are you okay?” he said, gently shaking him. Alfred couldn’t bring himself to move again. It hurt to badly- every muscle in his body screaming in fatigue even though he’d just slept, a silent urge to move was blocked out by the pain it caused. Tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. What was he supposed to do when this happens? Keep himself warm until the pain faded enough to move then take a hot shower… ya. That sounded about right.

Alfred couldn’t find the right words to respond, letting out a pitiful groan.

“Darling…?” Ivan asked, his head tilted and his eyebrows scrunched in concern.

“Need like… half hour…” he forced himself to mutter, “will be burrito for the time being.”

“You aren’t hurt?” Ivan pressured, looking him over. There was no reason for him to be injured, and he was answered by Alfred shaking his head yes.

“What’s wrong?” he said softly, leaving a few lingering kisses on his cheek and temple.

“Depression.”

“Oh,” the Russian said, petting his hair, “please, don’t do anything.”

“I don’t want to go anything,” Alfred muttered, his eyes fluttering shut, “I’m not a damn circus seal-”

He sneezed, sounding like a little kitten.

“Have you caught a cold?”

“...you can sneeze and not be sick…” Alfred muttered. He’d been in the same position for a while, and even his lips barely moved.  
“And you’re okay?”  
“Yes,” he said, starting to doze. Ivan pet his hair, gently pulling him into sleep. He’d feel better if he slept, Ivan deemed.

And Ivan would feel safer if he was asleep. He didn’t want him to hurt himself- the thought in itself made his chest hurt.

“You’re safe with me,” Ivan cooed, those being the last words Alfred heard before falling into pain-ridden sleep.


	15. 15

Peppering kisses all over his lover’s cheeks, he looked around the room. Ivan was still asleep. Letting out a sigh, he slipped his glasses into his shirt and snuck out of the room, grabbing his phone along the way and checking his messages.

‘Call.’

Conner needed something? Hm. Normally it would be Noah.

It rang once before his brother picked up.

“Hello?” Conner asked. There was the sound of something heavy getting moved and a clank.

“Hey big bro, what ya need?” he asked in return as Conner let out an ‘oh’. Did he seriously not know how to check caller ID?

“One of the big boys was very unhappy,” Conner said, letting out a chuckle, “tried to start a fire out of the metalwork area.”

“Tried but didn’t succeed?”

“Ya, Arkansas caught ‘em last minute and lassoed ‘em,” there was a shout from Conner, telling someone to do something, “Alameda and Awenita are doin’ fire control.”

“Fun,” he sighed, trying to think of why. They only pulled stunts like this when he wasn’t around, and they were pretty fucking defensive of him too, so surprise surprise they try to start a fire- again might I add, “anything else?”

“Alexandryn, Sapphira, and Fajra are in a tight spot. Apparently their cover might be blown.”

“Make Fajra ‘disappear’, see how they react. Marco can get her out just fine. If they suspect her they’ll suspect the other girls. I don’t want their deaths. Adeena is trusting me with their lives, and I won’t disappoint their own mother.”

“Replacement?”

“No,” Alfred said, keeping his eye on the shadows the door cast to make sure no one was being overly curious, “not now.”

“We’ll alert them, bye brother.”

“Bye.”

Letting out a grunt, he hung up, walking into the living room. Fifteen minutes went by.

‘Master,’ Hero said, running around his feet, ‘Tony’s here!’

“What?” he asked, looking down at the cat, “Where is he?”

“Outside, waiting for you,” she said, “he said it’s urgent, something to do with the lab!”

Oh god not the lab…

“Where exactly?”

“Tree,”

“Thanks,” he muttered, rushing to the door, “make sure Ivan doesn’t see him.”

The cat nodded in confirmation.

Opening the door, he stepped out onto the grass, instantly regretting not wearing shoes. He didn’t expect the amount of dew anywhere.

Walking towards the thickest tree, he looked up into the branches, trying to pinpoint where exactly the alien might be.

‘Greetings,’ 

“Ah fuck!” he exclaimed, jumping into the trunk of the tree and smacking his head on a branch.

‘It worked,’

“What worked?” he said, rubbing the back out his head and finally meeting his eyes. Red orbs stared back. Tony was hanging upside down spider-man style from a branch.

‘V-672,’

“You chose that one to complete first? Are you fucking nuts?”

‘Mostly healthy female,’ Tony said smugly, ignoring Alfred’s previous comment, ‘estimated to die around two years.’

“Tell that to me again when she lives for twenty,” Alfred growled.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Tony said, his eyes shifting to the house before shifting back, ‘what do you want us to do with her? We don’t know if you can communicate with her yet.’

“Keep her in the lab until I’m free. If I can’t order her, there’s gonna need to be some tweaks.”

‘Understood,’ he nodded, ‘alert the household?’

“Lani gossips enough to spread the news, go ahead.”

‘Safety first,’ Tony nodded, slipping a butterfly knife out of his skin, ‘I won’t bother you again.’

“Bye Tony,” Alfred sighed, taking the knife gingerly.

‘Goodbye Dyami.’

With that, the alien climbed to the top with ease, slipping through the branches like a serpent.

Alfred didn’t bother to see where he went from there, slipping his hands into the pockets of his sweats -as well as the knife- and walking back into the house, walking into the kitchen and hearing the pouring of bowls.

“Are you sure Hero ate enough yesterday?” Ivan said as he walked over, “She and Lampushka seemed more hungry than usual.”

“That’s weird,” he said, burying his face into Ivan’s shoulder.

“Where were you by the way?”

“Outside, possums in the trees. The babies are cute and nice but the adults will fuck you over for fun,” Alfred muttered, breathing in the fabric deeply.

“Anything wrong?”

“No… why?”

Ivan scooped him up bridal style, laughing as Alfred let out a squeaky scream, wrapping his arms tightly around the Russians neck as his face flushed.

“You seemed like you needed someone to sweep you off your feet,”

He didn’t get an answer, just Alfred letting out a booming laugh, a real smile plastered against his face and his eyes bright. A light blush coated his cheeks, and he just looked… perfect.

Alfred was about to make a comeback, but Ivan was staring at him with such intensity, a light blush that he never expected to see again coating him to his ears and his eyes. His eyes.

He found himself glancing down at the others lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Of course,” Alfred smiled even wider, cupping Ivan’s cheeks and giving him a kiss. He was finally level with Ivan, which made it less of getting immediately dominated and easier instead of having to go up on his tiptoes. They had a seven inch height difference. Shit got difficult.

His memories fluttered.

No- no bad. Get away. Escape- get help. This is bad. You aren’t safe. He hurt you.

That was a long time ago, he tried to reason with himself. He was losing an inner battle. 

You’re off your feet. Get back on your feet- fight or flee. You aren’t safe get away you need to get away.

He doesn’t like you. He hurts. 

FIGHT.

He forced a shudder, pulling away. Tears started to pool from his eyes, and he felt waves of panic overcome him.

“Alfred?”

Ivan’s voice was drowned out by ringing. Why were his ears ringing? No- get away. He was still off his feet. He was being attacked. Could he fight though? Could he?

No. Big enemy.

Sister and brother were big enemies too. You can fight big enemies.

“Dorogoy?”

Darling? What? It was a sick game, it had to be.

He felt a pinch, and the world realigned after a few seconds. Looking around, he tried to see what had happened before focusing back on Ivan. He was back on his feet, and Ivan was on his knees with his arms wrapped around him.

He fell to, Ivan pulling him onto his lap. Over the Russian’s shoulder, he could see Davie. Smirking, with an empty medical needle in his hand. He waved before disappearing. A new vase of red roses sat on the table behind him with a singular sunflower in the bunch.

He nuzzled into Ivan’s scarf, wrapping his arms weakly around him.

Ivan was muttering apologizes like a mantra. He had no idea why. It wasn’t his fault.

“Please, don’t stress yourself,” he muttered against his ear, “I’m fine. I just do that sometimes.”

“You aren’t hurt or anything? I didn’t cause the attack did I?”

He pulled away just enough to cup the Americans cheek, feeling a little better when Alfred nuzzled into his hand.

“No,” Alfred said, looking up to him with those sapphires, “don’t blame yourself. It’s my mind that doesn’t understand what happens or happening. Please, don’t blame yourself.”

“What do I have to do for you to never do that again?”

“You can’t do anything,” he said, tapping Ivan’s hand with his own, “it’s a stupid fucking illness, nothing more, nothing less. Just a piece of shit with thoughts. Ya know, like a cold. Sneezing can be compared to attacks, fever to muscle aches, runny nose to paranoia. Just matters how you look at it.”

“You can cure colds with medicine,” Ivan said, nuzzling into his hair, “do you have medicine?”

“Uh… no,” he said, recalling the bottle of pills that was left on his dresser at home. Why didn’t he grab them…

Well, fuck. Actually, what the fuck was in that needle… he felt… mildly annoyed. Not heroine. 

Samuel had made injections at some point right? Ya, Tony had helped him extract the main properties that he would be using, and Sami was the one that tried to hit both of them with a fire extinguisher when they caused a mild explosion by ignoring their other duties.

He had gone through them pretty fast. Noah had been the one that asked whether he’d been given heroine or adderall instead. No clue why he asked that exactly, adderall wouldn’t work on him, but ya, Samuel made injections and he made them again?

Either that or Davie poisoned him. But he wouldn’t do that, and poison would have just made him pass out. 

“You need medicine,” Ivan said, narrowing his eyes.

“Leave me and my incurable cold alone,” Alfred stuck his tongue out, grabbing Ivan by the wrist.

“I don’t want you to keep doing that, you’re gonna hurt yourself,”

“The worst I’d actually be able to do is kill myself.”

Ivan was stunned. Alfred had no idea why. Before he suddenly realized.

“No, you won’t. I don’t want to be alone again. It seems selfish now that I’m saying it but no,” Ivan shook his head, cupping the Americans cheeks, “no, don’t leave me alone.”  
And once again, Alfred started balling. For a different reason this time. He was not expecting the array of feelings to jolt his being.

Including but not limited to: happiness, regret with a side dish of sadness, paranoia that Davie was still watching them, some odd franken-emotion between pure hatred of this entire situation and wanting to stay here forever, and last but not least some sort of happy feeling that wasn’t quite happiness but wasn’t joy but had a hint of lust.

“Dorogoy?!” Ivan said, panicked once again that he did something wrong.

“Why ARE you so NICE…?” Alfred said, his voice cracking a few times as his body got ready for another roller-coaster of emotions. Jesus fuck the fuck was going on inside his body at this point.

“... uh…” Ivan said, tilting his head. Alfred started balling even more, and his confusion went through the roof.

“And you’re cute?” he whined, “And I get to keep you?”

“Yes, you get to keep me,” Ivan sighed, just going along with it.

“Yaaaaaay~” he exclaimed, letting out a purr sound after. Ivan had no idea what was happening at this point, but went along with it. He stopped crying after like two seconds and just went to hiccuping and laughing with this dorky smile on his face.

“Alfred, how can I be sure you won’t leave me with bloodstains and a memory?”

“There are no dinosaurs in hell.” He deadpanned, looking over with the most exasperated look on his face, his stomach growled and he let out this weird goat sound and ran to the kitchen, grabbed a pack of chips, and did a running slide back over.

“... you are relying on the fact that there are no dinosaurs in hell to keep you alive…”

“Yes.”

“... okay… whatever,” Ivan shrugged as Alfred let him have some of the chips, watching with an evil gaze. The Russian was fairly sure he’d get his head busted if you took to much (or didn’t take enough) but he wasn’t sure.

“Want to get high?”

“Are you sure? It’s only… ten.” Ivan said, looking at the clock on the wall before looking back to the sack of giggles the floor right in front of him.

“Meh, hour drive to the nearest joint. Ever been to an gay speakeasy?”

“... those exist?”  
“Everything is possible,” Alfred shrugged, stuffing more chips in his mouth. He winced a little, and it was almost unnoticeable, but Ivan still went over and kissed his forehead.

People deserved to eat.

Alfred smiled in return. He looked to be jittering, fidgeting and just trying to force himself to stop. Give the impression of being okay.

He had a mask, and it was on tight. He wasn’t even sure he could see it. He’d been trying to pay attention to his actions. He had a dangerous aura when he felt trapped- actually, he just didn’t like being questioned. It made him defensive.

He wants to keep up the facade of being alright when he isn’t. Something in Ivan told him not to push the American over the edge. His nightmare was enough to teach him not to push. It was silly, because it wasn’t real, but still. Something about it. Specifically how plausible it started to seem to him.

“Breakfast, change, then go,”

“Fine,” Alfred said playfully, stretching his arms over his head and wincing as they cracked before running back to the kitchen. Ivan trusted he could leave breakfast to him. 

“I was bored,” Davie whispered. Alfred could smell him cooking since after the attack. The angel was able to move almost silently, giving him the power to make an entire meal without the clank of a dish.

“You’re also lucky Ivan didn’t see the flowers,” Alfred growled. He heard the TV go on and relaxed just a little.

“Hey, don’t get mad. Samuel got himself together enough to make you a medicine pack, check your suitcase.”

“You wouldn’t be here for nothing, what’s wrong?” he asked, changing the subject. He was able to pinpoint two dishes in the microwave so that they would stay warm, and like the actor he was, he started playing the part, turning on the stove and placing an empty pan. Picking up items and putting them down. Opening and closing the fridge.

“There’s an issue with getting the girls out.”

“What kind of issue?”

“They’re gone, we can’t contact them.”

“Turn off all communication with them, protect our location. Turn on their trackers,” he whispered back after a few moments of thinking, still playing his part, “get Wilthon on board.”

“Thomas won’t do shit. He’s done. Sworn to secrecy, but done.”

“Say’s everyone until they get green,” Alfred said, looking at him with pure greed, “pay him. Get them out immediately.”

“As you wish,” Davie did a mock bow, disappearing into thin air.

After about fifteen minutes of walking around the kitchen doing nothing he took the food out of the microwave and walked back to Ivan, cuddling up to his side as the two watched South Park, being the one thing that Alfred found that wasn’t political. The only other option was American Greed, but all that show did was tell him recent and not so recent scandals that he didn’t get told any more.

Ivan wrapped his arm around his waist, peppering kisses all over his cheeks and nose.

Alfred started to laugh, pulling himself closer.

“You agreed we’d go to the speakeasy.”

“Did I now?” Ivan asked, raising a brow at him.

“Yes!” he said like a little excited child before running to the door, realizing he wasn’t wearing socially acceptable clothes and running to his room. Ivan copied him, silently not having any clue what might happen.

Alfred was pleased. He technically owned the bar, and it was where the house about 19% of its cash. Police turned a blind eye (seeing as many were extremely interested in the women strippers) and he got revenue incase something crashed.

Ya see, it was called a gay bar so those creepy white men who talk about chaining women and children to poles stay out. Very mixed. And also had a lot of booze and sold drugs. You just had to be sixteen.

No heroine, meth, or anything young people could overdose on. There was an area out back that acted as a hotel so the workers had a place to live. Good paychecks for the workers, and any straight men that wanted to touch them got taught a lesson in self control with a belt.

Inspired from the time when he was a stripper. His boss was an asshole. He hoped he still wasn’t that asshole.

It also was where he’d have to meet to get the girls back home. It was the inbetween.

It was literally called Middle Earth.

‘Rulyn, send someone to pick up,’ he took his phone out and did it as fast as possible as he tried to get his jeans on.

‘Specific?’

‘Middle.’

‘You get Jasper, have fun,’

‘Thanks’

Jasper would work. He drove like Rulyn (aka, crazy) so he could get to and from places easily.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, he walked out the room. Observing the area. It was easy for him to get paranoid, especially when he was protecting something, and Ivan was   
just across the hall. It was just a text message, but still.

Ivan walked out.

He looked like a fashion model.

“Don’t let me lose ya,” Alfred joked, pulling a little on his jacket, “some thotties are a little more than some people can handle.”

“...thotties?”

“Like a prostitute, but younger and sometimes with herpes,” Alfred shrugged, the two walking side by side to the door and slipping on their shoes.

Alfred grabbed the keys, and the two walked out, Alfred locking the door behind him. His eyes shifted. Why was he so paranoid?

Oh right he had anxiety.

Getting in the car, he drove off. Away from the city and to a town not far away. It seemed fairly calm. Two people fought on the sidewalk. Many just went about their day. Small town traffic- the works. But they got to the bar without much of Alfred’s road-rage so that was a plus.

He parked out back (confusing Ivan), and got out. A teen was smoking pot out back and waved to him as he passed. Alfred waved back, Ivan was mildly concerned.  
Mariner’s Revenge Song was playing in the speakers, and it was loud. Ivan looked like he didn’t expect it. There was an assortment of couches that looked like they came from goodwill, giving it a chaotic look. It was mostly teens and young adults. A man danced pole in a black pair of pants with suspenders and a choker, but on occasion people would call him over or he’d run off to have another shot or hit.

The bar was on the other side, a woman in a skimpy swimsuit with a brown cloth tied around her waist acted as bartender, and another was taking cash and returning with baggies and cigarettes.

“Hey Angelica,” he cooed, leaning over the bar. Her eyes snapped to him, and she studied him before figuring out who it was.

“Alfred! I wasn’t expecting you!” Angelica exclaimed, hugging him over the counter. She whispered in his ear: “I already know. They aren’t here yet.”

He nodded just slightly in confirmation.

All his workers knew about him. All of them were broken in some way- Angelica herself was a victim of her father’s lust. They had lived with him for years, he’d practically raised them. And Adeena did to. It was what sparked her ‘love of motherhood’ and likely the reason she had nine biological kids.

Ivan had no idea what to think of her. She was latina, she had long hair with a flower, and she smiled. She had a tattoo on her wrist, and henna on her other hand.  
She had a creepy form of intelligence in her eyes. Like she was a pagan goddess or something.

“And you brought a friend!” she exclaimed, looking at him. Studying him. She smirked before nudging Alfred with her elbow, “How come you get the keepers~”

“I leave my house,” he responded.

“Lies.”

The conversation turned into angry bird screeching from there. He had no idea anyone could make that sound. Specifically humans.

“Hey gorgeous~” a woman purred in his ear, and he instantly stilled. Alfred and Angelica were way too busy showing their fighting spirit instead of helping him.

“Uh…”

“Fuck you’re gay aren’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Dammit!”

“Haha! Look who failed!” a man's voice boomed.

“Shut your trap before I break your spine!”

“Ya right dyke! Catch me first!” the man, who turned out to be a teen teased. The friend group laughed, and he was unsure whether ‘dyke’ was considered an insult in this case or a best friend sort of way. Americans had this weird tendency to call each other demeaning names to show how good of friends they were. It still confused him.

“Get pegged!”

They started fighting. He had no idea what pegged meant, and didn’t want to ask.

“Oh Ivan, you met Tora?” Alfred said, looking passed his shoulder to the group.

“You know her?” Ivan asked, stressing every vowel. Some guy who was passing behind him ran into the wall, and Ivan wasn’t even sure if he was drunk or high anymore. Everyone seemed drunk, yet their drinks had barely been touched.

“Tora, you have school soon! Wouldn’t want to get detention again now do you?”

“...fuck you.”

Angelica asked for his ID for the time being. He told her it wasn’t in English.

“To, chto my amerikantsy, ne znachit, chto my tupye. (Just because we’re American doesn’t mean we’re dumb).” the other lady said, holding her hand out.  
He took it out and handed it to her. He never expected it. He hadn’t exactly believed it when Alfred told him some Americans spoke Russian.

“Twenty three?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she said, taking a list from under the counter and adding his name.

“Middle?”

“Zimavich,” he nodded.

(This name is just a male middle name form of the Russian word for winter {based off of General Winter}. I have very little understanding of Russian middle names, tell me if I’m wrong or if I’m being a dumbass.)

“Thank you!” 

She put the list back and gave his ID back, walking back over to her section. She was pale with brown hair and brown eyes. She had big hoop earrings, and a flower necklace. She   
seemed to be a little skittish, although it didn’t affect her.

Another question he never even realized he had: why was almost every young person skinny down to their bones?

Alfred had pressured Tora into leaving, as well as the other man he called Chase. 

The two got what was apparently called the ‘Walk of Shame’ where almost everyone got up and went into rows and bowing their heads. It had gotten basically silent, besides the blasting of the speakers.

They went quietly, a few more teens following behind them, less shamefully.

“Bye bitches!” the last teen, a darker skinned teen with a red communist shirt, yelled, waving to them before walking away.

The Walk of Shame ended, and a champagne cork flew into the ceiling, a guy screeching at the top of his lungs as he was covered in dust.

Alfred tapped the counter twice, and Angelica started pouring a cocktail.

“Three?” she asked, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. 

“Make it five,” he sighed, looking at the bottle with lust.

“Got it, three,” Angelica said, smirking at his expression, which turned into this weird mix between tears and livid.

An old fashioned got slid across the counter to him.

“Anything for you?” she asked, smiling to him.

“Vodka, straight.”

“Vodka, gay, got it.” she said, really seriously as both of them started laughing, “Any flavor?”

“What…?”

“Ya want like lemon, raspberry, blueberry, blackberry, strawberry, etc etc,” Alfred shrugged, sipping his drink.

“Why does that exist?”

“Drugs, now ya want it?” Angelica said, chuckling.

“Uh… no.”

“Oh, and Angel,” Alfred said as she grabbed the bottle, “here ya go.”

He slipped a butterfly knife, a wad of ten dollar bills, and a five dollar bill out and placed it on the counter.

“Hmm…” she said, pursing her lips and going through the money, “$165 dollars and an illegal knife. Original, I’ll give you that.”

She poured his drink and handed it to him.

They stayed there for about fifteen minutes, talking at the bar. Angelica sometimes interjected and said something so heavy in American slang he couldn’t figure it out from there.

“What’s cool about this place is that you can’t just come here and stay. The names of people who are allowed in here are written down, and anyone who decides to be an asshole   
gets put on the not allowed in ever again list.”

“What defines an asshole?” Ivan asked, resting his drink on the counter. Angelica refilled it, also making Alfred another old fashioned.

“Someone who decides rape is okay, starts causing damage while sober, or someone who says being homophobic or transphobic is bad. We don’t allow them in. That guy smoking outside is the security guard.”

“He doesn’t look any older than a teen,” Ivan replied, looking over the bar. It was starting to calm down. The stripper was off his pole and getting free drugs from the other bartender, and the TV’s were blasting RuPaul’s Drag Race.

The music had become softer too.

Alfred laughed before saying, “He’s almost 31, but I’m sure he’ll accept the compliment.”

“He’s what?”

The conversation went on like that.

That was at least until another person walked in. Pure black hair, green eyes, tan skin. He walked right over to them after looking around for a few seconds.

“Hey, Ivan, we need some help with a shipment,” Angelica said, “mind?”

“Uh, no. Of course not,” he said, the girl opening the gate to the back of the bar before leading him into a back room, and then through to a shipment dock. There was an   
assortment of crates and barrels, and he could tell many were full of alcohol.

“Veronica is still at the counter, it won’t take that long!”

“You’re fine miss.”

“Are they here yet?” Jasper asked, leaning on the bar.

“No sign,” he sighed, “do you know who’s picking them up?”

“Marco’s getting ‘em out… and should be the one picking them up and bringing them here.”

“Hm.” he hummed, keeping an eye on the door. Where could they be? They shouldn’t have left- they couldn’t be far.

Jasper got a call, taking a pair of headphones out of his pocket and plugging them in, giving one bud to Alfred.

“Fajra got buried in a box. She’s unconscious with head trauma. They’re almost there.”

Cole’s voice broke through, sounding abnormally angry. He was normally level headed, but this crossed a few lines.

“How long?” Jasper asked.

“Two minutes at most.”

The two shared a look before nodding.

“Thanks, bye.”

“Bye.”

A beep sounded, and the call ended, Alfred handing the earbud back and the two walking outside.

“Leviathan,” Alfred called, looking to his guard, as he looked up, “go on the alley. Nobody should drive in but Marco’s car.”

“Got it,” he weakly saluted, walking out to the alley.

After a few minutes, Marco’s car appeared.

“I’m in a rush,” Marco said, his window rolled down. Jasper went to his SUV and turned it on as Alexandryn carried Fajra to the car and Sapphira hugged Alfred quickly, tears in her   
eyes, before following her sisters and brother.

“Marco, go.” Alfred ordered, the immortal human nodding, working his Mercedes out of the alley and back onto the street where he could get back to his secret work. 

When he got back in, Angelica was thanking Ivan profusely and he was trying to tell her it was fine only to be stopped by her rambling.

“Hey,” he called, Ivan’s head finding him, “I didn’t lie about the getting drunk part.”

That’s when the memories tended to get fuzzy. He remembered the feeling of Ivan holding him, cuddling him and nuzzling his hair. He remembered Angelica and Veronica asking   
how much more they wanted, and if they wanted sleep aid so they could go through the night. He remembered saying yes to both of those questions.

He remembered Veronica telling him to go to sleep, and he remembered pulling Ivan along with him. He remembered cuddling and sharing drunk kisses with the Russian, and his last memory was the pillow.


	16. 16

His eyes felt too heavy. He didn’t feel like opening them.

“Al,” a female voice said, shaking him, “Al, get up.”

“No…” he whined, burying his face into the pillow.

He felt a hand wrapped around his ankle and a few jerking motions, but still he didn’t open his eyes.

Then he got slapped.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed, pushing himself up and clutching his cheek as the headache washed over him. Someone picked his hand up and put a cup in it, and he started drinking without even thinking. Sugary tea, and another cup with Heather’s Hangover. He despised both of them equally.

“You should’ve taken water between drinks,” Veronica stated, helping him up, “someone’s here. Wants to talk to you.”

“Who?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair and attempting to look better than he did before, then flattening out his shirt.

“Thomas,” she growled, shaking her head and puffing her hair like a mane. Thomas was her ex, and they didn’t end on good terms.

“Ah,” he said, “probably wants his money.”

“I thought that too,” Veronica said, following him out and down the stairs back to the parking lot, the two heading into the bar.

Alfred stayed silent, going to the couches and sitting across from the Italian.

“Hello, Mr. Wilthon,” Alfred said politely. 

“It’s Mr. Yuvexi now,” Thomas said, holding out his hand for Alfred to shake. He didn’t. He was way too tired at the moment to be formal.

“Coffee, black,” Angelica said, placing a cup down beside him, “and a coffee two creams three sugars.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said, taking the cup from her and trying to keep his polite aura even though he was denied.

“Let’s cut to the chase, what do you want?” Alfred said, glaring at him. Veronica left to go take care of Ivan when he woke up.

“I want to come back.” he said, a pleading tone in his voice.

“No,”

“Please, I have nowhere else to go! I’m living in my car on the side of the road. I’m fine with becoming a spy again, it’s better than starving.” 

“... huh?” Alfred said, clutching his head. Thomas left because he wanted to make his own path.

“I just- I need…” he muttered, holding his own head and covering his ear, “I need my family back-”

“Then you shouldn’t have left in the first place!” Angelica interjected, cleaning glasses and setting them up. She didn’t look the happiest at this point.

“Please!” he pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes, “I don’t want money! Please let me back!”

“...It’s too early for this…” Alfred muttered.

“Sir, it’s almost 10 o’clock,” Thomas said, looking up at him with confusion.

“Uh… fuck.” Alfred said, pushing himself up with the table.

“Say no! He’s an ass!” Angelica yelled, glasses clinking as she put them away.

“There was a deal when you left, what was it?” Alfred sighed.

“That I wouldn’t say a word.”

“Go home,” he stated as the Italian lit up, his face breaking out into a smile as he launched himself across the table to hug him.

“Al! But-”

“Angel, it’s fine,” Alfred chuckled, “he’s still family. He’ll always be family. Tom, go home.”

“Thank you,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. Angelica didn’t look angry. She was more scared of being hurt again than him coming back. He broke Veronica’s heart, and now she turned cold and sadistic.

He left, and Angel went into the back. It was only so long before Veronica came back, Ivan in tow. The Russian sat beside him while Veronica went into the back. He could barely hear the sounds of the two arguing, and he knew Ivan couldn’t hear it at all.

“Are we going home soon?” Ivan asked as Alfred rested his head on his shoulder. Ivan, without thinking, wrapped his arm around his lover’s waist, pulling him a little closer.

“Ya,”

“When?”

“When the coffee kicks in,” Alfred muttered, covering his eyes. Stars covered his vision and he started to feel sick, yet at least he didn’t vomit. That would make him feel worse.

After a few minutes, they said goodbye to Angelica and Veronica and left, going into the car and driving back. It was almost eleven by the time they got to the house, and by then they both felt less like immediate death and more alive, Alfred jumping up to make breakfast.

On the kitchen counter was a little note:

‘Ajax almost shot Thomas lol’

In Sami’s handwriting. He forgot to tell them that Thomas was coming back. Oops. Well, they knew what they were doing.

Humming, he ripped the paper into tiny little pieces and threw it out, putting some bacon on the stove, and making some pancakes. He also fed the cats.

He got two plates, and the two ate on the couch. Ivan did the dishes, and Alfred was left alone. At some point his brain just fizzled out and now he was spinning around the room in a daze, his arms out and the cats watching him with confusion.

Ivan ended up watching him, his arms crossed, and his lips curled into a smirk. He shook his head, Alfred continuing to walk around in a daze.

‘Master?’ Hero purred, rubbing against his legs and trying to figure out what was happening, ‘Alfred, where are you?’

And then he started choking on his own spit. 

His breath caught in his throat and he came back into reality, hitting his chest and coughing as Ivan ran over to see if he was alright.

“I-Ivan…” he muttered, holding his head. His body didn’t seem to be happiest at this point. It didn’t like holding back, “can you get me my pills? They’re in my bag in the orange prescription bottles.”

“Huh? Yes,” Ivan replied, thinking for a minute before going to his room, Alfred pulling himself off the ground with his eyes tightly shut. Working off muscle memory, he walked to the bathroom before opening his eyes and looking at himself.

His nails had turned into black claws, and red-brown stripes went along his body. His eye-whites weren’t white, and the area around his eyes was smoky black. His hair had gone from true blonde to black at the roots.

He physically ached from holding back his true form for so long. True, he could do it for a few days, but more than a week? He yawned, running a finger through his hair. He had to wash it, it was getting oily.

“Dorogoy?” Ivan said from behind the door, knocking as Alfred’s head snapped to it. Some sort of impulse just said ‘open the door, curl up in his arms, and stay in this form because this form didn’t hurt.’

And the other part of him was too afraid of not being accepted to do that.

“Ya…?” he asked weakly, trying to keep his voice as… Alfred as possible. Forcing his hand back human he opened the door just slightly and held his hand out, Ivan placing four bottles and a needle into his hand. He quickly recoiled, shutting the door and putting the bottles on the counter. Three of the orange bottles, and one glass, not to mention the needle, which would probably raise more than a few questions from the one on the other side of the door. His hand was engulfed in pain, and he had to transform it back, grimacing as the stripes and claws went back over it.

“Dorogoy? Are you okay?”

“Ya!” he yelled, a weak tone overcoming his voice as the pain that had washed over him suddenly started to dissolve, “I just need to take a shower!”

“Oh, okay,” the voice said, before footsteps left.

Grabbing the bottles, he looked at the tabs, looking for what which was for. Pain pills were in the third bottle he picked up, and he downed two before cupping his hands and drinking some of the tap water to down them, sighing as he looked over the tabs. The glass bottle drew his attention the most.

A medication that made immortals start to create blood. That could be a really bad medicine, or a really good one. It had to be injected, and he hoped he or Ivan never had to use it.

Peeling off his shirt, he felt some comfort in the fact that he hadn’t gained much weight. He was still as bony as he was before, having spent the entirety of the time never eating enough to keep his metabolism in check. It meant he was still tired constantly, yet it also had the added bonus of making him thin.

Or it was just the stripes that made the shadows look more like proper shadows. He chose to think it was the first. Taking off his pants and underwear -almost tripping in the process- he started the water, making sure it was warm enough to relax his muscles before stepping in.

He stayed there for some time, just trying to relax and make the pain go away. Not just physical. 

He could sink his claws into the concrete connecting the slabs and try not to imagine it as bodies. It’s so easy to kill. It could just be one it before you see the light fade from their eyes. One bullet- one hit- one push- and they were gone.

Nations… no. 

He was there when Kaya died- and it was the only time he’d seen a nation die. Her heart was sliced, and still then she picked herself up and started working to kill her assailant- but she was too late. Attacked until she was drenched in her own blood, then slain with a final strike.

He had gotten the last hit. He remembered his first kill like it was yesterday, his brain fading into it’s animalistic impulses and the sinking of his claws into flesh and the smell of her assailants wounds cartalizing as his hands drenched in flame and his head stopped being attached to his body.

He remembered his siblings hugging them while they cried, the comfort of having someone. He remembered the look on his mother's face- the scorn of hatred. His body was pushed to rot and left out. Kaya? She was washed off and stitched up. He remembered his siblings being miserable because they couldn’t close her eyes. He remembered the glossy look in those purple spheres. Her heart was placed right over her chest, and she was buried in a cave system with gold and platinum and every jewel imaginable.

He remembered wanting to reap more vengeance. 

For some reason that comforted him. If someone hurt him he could just hurt them back tenfold. He had the power to hurt- to kill. His heritage didn’t harm him, it made him stronger than every other empire.

But he still listened to the spirits. They were everywhere, and they were in him, and they were him, but not just him, every person in his family carried a piece of them.  
Even the other empires carried them, which surprised him.

He washed his hair, and got out, looking into the mirror and forcing his body to look human. He didn’t like the feeling as his skin changed back, his eyes shifted, and his claws and teeth retracted. Looking back into the mirror, he saw the human again.

More pain pills, more tap water, clothes, and he went to leave, tapping his hand to the door knob.

He recoiled, his brain melting to butter as he took a few steps back, feeling his arms start to itch.

What if it all went wrong?

What if Ivan was the enemy?

He was the enemy. Everyone was an enemy. Everyone was a traitor. He wanted his family and he was trapped and he was trapped and he was stuck and he was trapped.  
Short sleeves felt shorter. His hand connected to his wrist and he didn’t even think before there was blood flowing down his wrist. He was… empty, and he felt his tears. 

“No…” he muttered, the feeling of his throat closing overcoming him. Home, he wanted to be home! 

He curled up in a ball, covering his ears, and trying not to scream.

His other arm ended up bleeding, and even his shoulders got scratched. There were little splatters of blood on the floor and the smell was starting to make him sick.

But he could get vengeance tenfold. His neck, his stomach, all areas that could be covered got bloody as he cut himself with his own claws. It got to the point where he barely had enough strength to stay in his human form and was forced to stop.

He couldn’t do anything but cry. He felt so useless because he kept being useless and-

He hissed, pulling in on himself more. It didn’t hurt. The blood loss barely affected him. He didn’t go far enough to actually hurt himself. He was too scared to.

There was a click as the door unlocked, and he heard a gasp before Ivan knelt down beside him, gently trying to get him to open up. To smile, to laugh.

Alfred just whimpered, trying to stop himself from lashing out. He was scared. Of betrayal, of Ivan being afraid of him, of being alone again.

“It’s okay,” Ivan whispered, petting his hair, “you aren’t in danger, you aren’t getting hurt. You’re safe.”

Alfred couldn’t bring himself to move.

“C’mon, you have to sit up or you’ll choke.” Ivan cooed, not directly moving him but getting him to move on his own, letting him sit against the wall with his head between his knees.

“What’s wrong?” Ivan asked, opening the drawer under the sink and pulling out the first aid kit, specifically the bandages, wrapping them around the worst parts of his wrists. His neck wasn’t hurt that bad… his stomach was a little scratched up… but his shoulders and arms suffered the worst of the damage.

“Ivan, I’m fine,” he said, coughing deeply and trying to bury himself into his knees more.

“I know,” Ivan said, cupping his cheek, but not going to touch anywhere besides his arms or face. He could imagine someone getting their neck, stomach, or back touched (especially someone who has fought before) would end up with fighting a trapped bull. Maybe even more dangerous, when the nation in front of them had a thing for trying to be the most powerful.

Alfred scooted over, resting his head on his shoulder while Ivan did the same. Alfred’s legs were thrown over his and his arms clutched his scarf. He stayed in his little ball of sadness and fear but at least he was warming up now. His body had taken a turn and gone freezing cold.

“See, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Ivan said, wrapping his arms around his body, “I love you too much to do that.”

“...you love me?” Alfred said, his head tilting, “Why?”

“You’re too golden for this world of coal, I want to protect the shine,” Ivan said, pulling his chin up.

“I love you too,” Alfred said, already knowing it was true. When you were forced to stay with someone emotions ended up blossoming- some random and others heartfelt.

“Why?” Ivan asked, copying him.

“If I’m gold, then your platinum,” he chuckled, “twice the worth.”

“Don’t say that solushka moyo (my sun),” Ivan cooed, pressing their foreheads together. Alfred tried not to blush, but probably did.

So he stuck his tongue out, Ivan shaking his head just slightly.

“What do you want to do?” 

“Cuddle!” Alfred replied, giggling and kissing Ivan on the nose.

“Okay, let’s go,”


	17. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just fanservice. I mean smut.

“Wanna have some fun~” Alfred purred, laying his body over the Russian’s lap.

Ivan ignored him, humming the tune to Katyusha with his head back against the couch and his eyes closed.

Alfred’s head tilted, looking at Ivan. Was he asleep? He didn’t exactly want to wake him up. His humming eventually got to the lyrics.

“Rastsvetali iabloni i grushi (apple trees and pear trees went into blooming),” Alfred sang softly as Ivan’s eyes snapped open and he looked down on him with confusion, “poplyli tumany nad rekoj. (river mists began a floating flow).”

“You know? The song I mean,” Ivan said, his eyebrow raising.

“A little,” he shrugged, “can’t explain what it says though.”

“...why?”

“... uh…” Alfred said, trying to find an excuse that wasn’t half his highschoolers listened to Soviet songs- cough, “yes.”

“Yes is not an answer…” Ivan said, still looking down at him.

“Fine, anime,” Alfred said, crossing his arms as Ivan looked suddenly confused and scared.

“What did Japan do?”

“Tank loli.”

“I don’t know what that is, and I don’t want to know,” Ivan shuddered as Alfred started laughing like a maniac, looking up to his lover with bright blue eyes. He was calm right now, who knew how long that would last before he got paranoid again.

“Did you ask something before that?” Ivan asked, petting his hair.

“Wanna have sex?”

“You’re… very blunt…” Ivan said, his cheeks dusted red. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex, and… there was no reason not too…

“Can I?” Ivan said, leaning down and touching their foreheads.

“Yes,” Alfred smiled, his eyes closing as Ivan connected their lips, pulling him up while Alfred wrapped his arms loosely around his neck, tangling his fingers into his lover’s hair.  
Hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him onto Ivan’s lap, straddling him.

Alfred broke the kiss, planting one on his nose before starting to give a lap dance, pinning Ivan to the couch as the Russian gripped his thighs, his jeans protecting his skin from being broken by his fingernails.

He moaned out, his head falling back, Ivan managed to grab him by the back of his neck and pulled him close enough to leave hickeys, all while the American grinded against him.

“Alfred,” the Russian muttered, cupping his cheek as Alfred pulled away, his chest rising quickly, “we need a safe word. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hm?” Alfred hummed, thinking for a few seconds, “How about… Jupiter?”

“That’ll do,” Ivan said, nuzzling into his neck as the American let out a purr of satisfaction, grinding harder and trying to maintain what was left of his slowly dissolving composure. 

His hand trailed from his cheek to his hair, where he fingered his cowlick, letting out a successful chuckle as Alfred moaned out, tears welling up in his eyes as shots of electricity went down his spine. 

All he had to pay attention to was not letting his eyes go black. He couldn’t let himself go primal, not with him. He had no idea how Ivan would react, and one does not risk joy.  
Panting, he removed his shirt. It was getting to hot for him now, and now Ivan had more skin to work with. He saw the smirk that appeared on Ivan’s lips as he did so, and he felt need well up into him.

Ivan scooped him up, standing in one quick motion as the American instantly, like second nature, wrapped his legs around the Russian’s waist, easily holding himself there.

He was carried all the way to his bedroom. As they got through the door he unhooked his legs and gently pushed Ivan into a sitting position, getting on his knees in front of him.  
“Care much~?” Alfred purred, pulling on the belt holes of his jeans. Ivan shook his head no, slowly wrapping a hand into the Americans hair.

Alfred quickly undid the buttons and the zipper of his fly, pulling him down to his boxers, then removing those too, leaving Ivan half mast and half naked.

Purring, Alfred instantly went into deep throat mode, using his lack of gag reflex and a few slut tricks to get almost all of Ivan’s giant dick down his throat. Ivan let out a groan, tightening his grip on the Americans hair and pushing him down just a little more.

Alfred didn’t do anything but keep his left fist tight and force his throat to relax.

Ivan got his other hand and started playing with the Americans cowlick, causing him to turn into a human vibrator. Very little sound came out, and Alfred was stuck trying to not bite down.

He was able to move his tongue, licking tip to base and starting to taste precum.

This continued until he heard Ivan make a louder groan and tried to pull away, only to be forced back to the base. Shit. 

Swallowing-

He felt cum dribble down his chin and tears drip down his face as he glared up at his lover. He had to try not to choke on any liquid, and Ivan noticed after a few seconds, letting his head go.

Alfred came off, coughing and hitting his chest a few times.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Ivan said, as Alfred started laughing, wiping his chin and licking the cum off his hand like a cat.

“There are better ways to apologize~” Alfred smirked, his eyes gaining an unreadable tint. His pants were starting to get too tight, and he wasn’t in the mood to wait anymore.  
Ivan seemed to catch his drift, pulling him off the ground and tossing him onto the bed, trapping him as he lavished his neck and chest, touching his body like it was made of glass with his fingertips, making trails of goosebumps down his body to his pants.

Hands slipped under his pants and gripped his ass, causing the American to let out a particularly loud groan.

It was only so long before Alfred was pantless, gripping onto his shirt with a look of such need- he almost took him right there.

“Uh… lotion,” Ivan said, trying to think of the English word for lube.

“Bedside table,” Alfred panted, pointing to it. Ivan pulled open the top drawer and found it, grabbing it and putting some on his fingers, walking back over to Alfred and looking at him for confirmation before proceeding. Alfred nodded, and got ready for any pain.

The first finger was always easy. Ivan leaned over him, petting his sides in comfort and moving around. He still carried the belief the second finger was the worst.

He let out a hiss and Ivan stilled, leaning down to his ear and whispering sweet nothings, doing everything he could to try and comfort his love.

“Vanya~” Alfred said, wiping some salty tears from his eyes, “you can keep doing. I’ll be fine.”

“You know the safe word?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, smiling up at him and cupping his cheeks, planting a kiss on his nose, “you can keep going.”

A third finger, and a low growl came from his throat. At this point he was numb enough that it didn’t hurt as much. After some time, the fingers were removed.

“Alfred,” the Russian growled, putting pressure on Alfred’s hips as the American looked up to him in confusion.

“You have to promise me. I’ll be the last one you kiss, the last one to bed you, and the last you’ll love.”

“Yes,” he whined, pressing their foreheads together, “of course.”

“Ya lyublu tebya,”

“I love you too,” Alfred purred as he heard the lube bottle get flicked open again before he felt his body being stretched, stopping the tears from falling from his eyes. This was a good pain, he’d always convinced himself, and the pain would get so much better.

Ivan made a groan above him, kissing him and biting his lip. Alfred rolled his hips when he was sure he wouldn’t start crying, and Ivan started moving, much too slow for his taste.  
Somehow he was able to get Ivan onto his back, riding him. His lover took well to this new position and grabbed his hips, ‘helping him down’.

It didn’t take long before Ivan started to feel bigger, and Alfred started going faster, sensing and feeling his own climax fast approaching.

White coated the both of them, and Ivan came inside with a moan, Alfred letting out a squeak as he was filled.

Alfred leaned over his chest, shuddering as he forced himself up and flopped over, panting heavily. He didn’t fall asleep though. He looked like he was waiting for Ivan to make a move.

“You should be way more tired,” Ivan panted, clearing the beads of sweat from his lover’s forehead. Alfred leaned into his hand, his eyes drooping.

Alfred moaned as he squirmed, stuffed to the brim. But he wanted more. He needed more.

Please~” he purred, laying himself out on his stomach, trying to keep himself from falling asleep as he wiggled his butt, trying to draw more attention.

Ivan grabbed his cowlick and started playing with it, Alfred instantly arching and moaning. Switching to playing with his left hand, he leaned over Alfred’s neck, leaving a long lick over the back of his neck as the American cried out in pleasure.

So he had two erogenous zones…

Ivan smirked against his skin.

Alfred felt a loud moan come from the back of his throat as Ivan started to leave a hickey. His toes curled, and his eyes rolled back as he was overcome with pleasure. Tingles ran down his spine and he felt need appear in his lower regions.

“Don’t cry baby,” Ivan cooed huskily, nuzzling into the back of his neck as he squirmed. He played some more with his cowlick, feeling something inside him well up. 

Protectiveness?

“D… don’t stop,” Alfred whined, “bite me. Just bite me.”

“Why?” Ivan teased. Alfred sent him a glare over his shoulder as Ivan smiled down at him.

“Please baby~ hurt me~ bite me please~” Alfred keened, stretching like a cat and leaving his neck exposed.

“You could have just said you wanted me to hurt you,” Ivan smiled, nuzzling once more into the back of Alfred’s neck as the American whined in protest.

Noticing this, Ivan bit down.

Jolts of pleasure struck through him as his neck was bitten. His eyes slammed shut and his body let out a purr of satisfaction as he came undone right there. The noise he made he could barely hear.

Ivan was surprised that the skin over his neck was so thin, easily being bitten through. He would have pulled away when he tasted blood but the sound Alfred made… he held on for a little longer before pulling away, lapping up the blood that was about to drip onto the sheets. The American only twitched, his eyes fluttering as his body fought between staying awake and going to sleep.

It decided on sleep.

Ivan almost had a heart attack when Alfred’s body slumped, stilling like he was dead. But the heavy breath he let out and the rising of his body proved his aliveness. He was just tired.

“Good night,” he whispered, kissing the top of his head and cuddling him.

Turning his head towards the window, he saw the light of the moon. How late was it now? Whatever time it was, he was tired.

After a few hours, Alfred woke up with a whimper and pulled himself out of Ivan’s grip to take a shower. Was never fun to have cum dry inside you.

He found himself imagining his ring on his ring finger.

Then he flopped over and went to sleep because... there are requirements to be human.


	18. 18

NO-

He was stuck running, the yowling closing in on him-

He woke up with a start, covered in cold sweat.

“Uh…” he said, covering his face with his hands. The arm over his waist drew his attention and he noticed Ivan sleeping beside him.

He was fine. He was fine. Probably.

He smacked his head back down on his pillow, facing his boyfriend as he tried to calm down enough to go back to sleep-

Was that Godzilla? How the fuck? 

And that giant bug was Mothra. 

Hence Mothra dragging Godzilla by his tail towards him and him having no idea what to do about it. He couldn’t move. He noticed that pretty quickly. Wasn’t an option. Second option- was he strong enough to push a giant dragon thing getting pulled by a fat fluff moth away.

Probably not.

He got crushed. It was a weird feeling.

He woke up again, covered in more sweat. He felt like an evolved pig.

He went back to sleep after almost another hour of staring at the ceiling and being disappointed in himself.

He had no idea what he dreamed about, but he felt like he was covered in blood and he needed a shower even though he already had a shower at like midnight or whatever.

“Are you okay?” Ivan asked, slipping on a shirt.

“Never,” he muttered, gripping his nails into his skin.

“What do you need?” Ivan asked another question, wiping his forehead and flicking his hand.

“A shower,” he muttered, “but you need one first. You need to wash your hair.”

“Go take a shower,” Ivan said, helping him up and he winced, running a hand down his back and making the American shudder. Alfred walked off to the bathroom, grumbling the entire time. He started the shower extremely hot, and got in.

“Wonder what he dreamed about,” Ivan muttered, slightly worried.

After a few minutes, Alfred came out, the towel wrapped around his shoulders as he went around the room to find his clothes, tossing them all together and walking away. Ivan went to wash his hair, putting away some of Alfred’s stuff as he went.

Alfred hummed as he worked on washing the clothes, putting in the detergent before turning the washing machine on, sighing as he went back to the room and put on a pair of boxers and pants, dropped his towel over the rim of the bed and walked out to the kitchen, starting to make breakfast and taking out some baking ingredients.

Time to figure out if he still knew how to make over medium eggs.

Probably not, best to just give up.

Ah raw bread, my only friend.

He ended up sitting on the kitchen floor, trying to figure out whether he would cry or not.

He had to get stuff done.

Why?

Because it would make people happy.

What about you?

Their happiness makes me happy.

Why?

Shut the fuck up.

Time to make some fucking elf crackers.

First you set the butter out- then you try not to hyperfocus on the butter getting soft because it takes ages to get soft and you don’t want to stand in the kitchen staring at butter for fifteen minutes.

What could he do to occupy himself before he lost his mind…

Lemon meringue crust needed cold butter.

Grabbing the food processor, he got the flour, sugar, and salt and put it in, blending it for twenty seconds while he got a knife, chopping cold butter and letting it mix before taking the whites off of an egg and pulling it in with some vanilla extract and water, letting it turn into a dough while he got the plastic wrap and set it out, taking the dough out and wrapping it, putting it in the fridge. 

Okay.

Now to occupy yourself for thirteen minutes without getting distracted and without going on your phone because it’ll end up being almost a half hour before you get back off it and the butter will get gross.

He ended up getting a chair and sitting down, staring at the ceiling and counting the tiles on the backsplash. 

His eyes glanced to the clock. It had only been two minutes.

He growled to himself, curling up and wrapping his arms around his legs, picking at his pants. God, this was getting boring. He wanted to do something. Or watch someone else do something. Actually… the washing machine would be done by now, right?

He walked over. Seven minutes left.

Fuck.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now.

He ended up standing in the hallway, counting the floor tiles.

Ivan walked out of the bedroom, looking at Alfred with confusion as he found his boyfriend crouched down and pointing at the floor.

“Alfred?” he asked as the American jumped, sitting down and trying to act like he wasn’t doing anything weird.

“I’m bored leave me alone!” Alfred yelled, looking him over. Like him, just a pair of jeans and his scarf.

Ivan sighed, walking over and helping Alfred up off the ground, wrapping an arm around him and bringing him close. Butterflies appeared in his stomach seeing the American nuzzled into his chest.

“Your hair is fluffy,” Alfred giggled, reaching up to try and touch the ends. He could feel water on his fingertips as Ivan bent down so his love could fluff his hair, getting water droplets everywhere as he did so.

“And you’re cute,” he cooed in response, kissing him on the forehead and nose as he giggled, kissing him on the jaw because it was all he could reach.

“Aww,”

“Is your neck okay?” Ivan said, running his hand up the back of his neck, making him shiver.

“Yes,”

“Let me see,”

Alfred spun around, Ivan looking over the bites on his neck, specifically the one on his erogenous zone. It was scarred over, not even pink. He went to touch it, and Alfred turned back around. He then remembered that part of his body wasn’t something to just be touched, and he let himself be kissed on the cheek before Alfred skipped away, slipping into the laundry room.

Ivan walked in the kitchen, saw all the stuff on the counter and turned around and walked away. He turned on the TV, watching whatever weird American show was playing.  
It took about five minutes before Alfred came back out, wrapping his arms around Ivan’s neck and burying his face in his hair.

“What happened to the kitchen?”

“Oh.” Alfred said, standing up and walking away, Ivan looking at him with confusion before giving up.

Flour, baking powder, and salt, stir. Add butter. Mix it together with an electric mixer, then add the sugar and cinnamon, mix thoroughly.

‘Blond boy,’ Lampushka purred, just about to jump on the counter, ‘I request food blond boy.’

“Oh,” Alfred said, looking down at him with irritation, “get your own.”

‘I don’t have thumbs, you need to open the box,’ he said, staring up at him with his fur puffed.

Alfred just gave up and walked over to the cat food, scooping both the kitties their food for the day.

Before going back to making his elf crackers.

Cream, el dash o’ honey, vanilla, and fork. Try not to have a mental breakdown while it’s mixing because it takes a few minutes to actually become dough-

After it was done, some flour on the board, and it got rolled out and cut. Sometimes small, sometimes a little larger- he braided the extra that couldn’t be cut into   
squares/rectangles.  
WHY WAS PREHEATING THE GODDAMN OVEN SO HARD?!

425, and stare at the stove in pure anger before it beeps and the tray of elf biscuits get thrown in.

What was he supposed to do now. It would be another half hour before the dough in the fridge even needed to be touched. He could make something to eat now, but he didn’t really… feel like it. He couldn’t be bothered, he just wasn’t hungry. He felt like he didn’t even have the energy to chew, yet he could bake a pie and make tea biscuits.

He hummed to himself, looking at the archway of the kitchen entrance. Alone. He was alone. Why was he so scared. Why did it feel like he was being watched. What was watching him.

Ivan noticed the lack of sound from the kitchen and stood up, walking into the kitchen to see Alfred glaring at the ceiling, before he spun around and jumped.

“What’s wrong dorogoy?” Ivan asked, waiting for Alfred to come to him. He didn’t want to trap him without meaning too.

“Uh…” Alfred whispered, crossing his arms and looking at the ground in embarrassment, “nothing.”

“Alfred,” Ivan said, making sure to try and look as non-threatening as possible (very difficult when you were built like a bear and seven inches taller than the person you were trying to be non-threatening with), “do you want to come here?”

Alfred looked at him for a few seconds, for some reason looking like he was trying to assess a threat before walking over. Slowly. Like he was trying to see if he would get hurt.  
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Ivan said, not taking a step towards Alfred. He was paranoid now, and if he had to guess that his love could go from paranoid to crying in a few seconds. He didn’t want to see him cry. He could barely stand the thought of him breaking down because of him again.

Alfred didn’t talk, just walked up until striking distance and stood there, this time keeping his eyes on Ivan for movement.

“Do you want a hug?” Ivan said, holding his arms out. Alfred glared at him, but stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Alfred said, “just being useless and standing around. I’m fine.”

“So you got bored and now you’re being paranoid because you don’t like not having something to do?”

“When you put it like that…” Alfred muttered, nuzzling into his scarf.

“Can I have a kiss?” Ivan asked, leaning his chin up as he looked at him with those blue eyes. They were so bright- and it was so beautiful.

“Yes,” Alfred giggled, going on his tiptoes as Ivan bent down just a little to get a kiss on the lips. It was hard to tell if Alfred was faking. If his eyes were bright because he was about to cry, if his giggling was a sign that he meant no, if his yes was null and void.

Alfred leaned his head on his shoulder, his eyes fluttering as his body went ‘hey you’re calm now which means you’ll sleep.’

Alfred shot up as he realized it had been and hour, startling Ivan has he went to the fridge, pulled out a dish wrapped in plastic wrap, and got the flour, rolling the dough in a disk as Ivan watched, silently pleased that Alfred was back to being bubbly. He watched as Alfred got the pie pan and put the dough in, pressing it before cutting off the edges.

Ivan tried to ignore how irked he was to see Alfred with a knife.

He’d never even cut himself with a knife. Why was he so irritated about it. 

He watched as Alfred stabbed the bottom of crust with a fork and put it back in the fridge before starting to make the lemon mixture, also taking these… criss-crossed cracker things out of the oven and turning it down.

“Ya’know you can sit back down,” Alfred said, turning to him, “I’m fine now.”

“But you’re being so adorable,” Ivan replied with a genuine smile.

He didn’t get a reply, but Alfred did stick his tongue out at him.

Ivan shook his head and left the room, Alfred staring out at where he’d left with dread, not knowing if he offended him. Probably not… probably…

He just ignored it and continued cooking. He was surprised Ivan hadn’t taken over the kitchen to cook breakfast before Ivan stole the milk and made himself a bowl of cereal, leaving his lover to his own devices after he gave him a kiss on the forehead.

Italian meringue… sucks ass. Three egg whites, then you gotta get a cup of sugar and a ¼ cup of water and slam that bastard on the fire until it gets nice and 250 degrees, while simultaneously starting the electric mixer and tossing the egg whites in there. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes!” he exclaimed, taking the crust out of the fridge and getting some parchment paper, placing it over the dough pan, then adding some rice into the middle and flattening it, before gently placing it in the oven, making sure to slap the side to make sure it was the correct temperature. Probably.

He stuck his finger in the hot melted sugar, trying to figure out if it was hot enough yet. About. Might as well.

He started the electric mixer, sucking the sugar off his finger as he did so. God, he was getting hungry-

Fat.

Fuck off Jeremy.

He poured the sugar in the egg whites almost immediately starting to bubble. But in ten minutes it would be a fluffy whipped cream.

Looking at the time, he noticed it would soon be time to remove the rice from the pie pan, and went to waste his time with something. There was a window. Windows were fun.  
And so was the cat right next to the window.

“Have any regrets?” Alfred asked, the cat growling, glaring at the birds.

‘It fucking hurts,’ Hero muttered, her eyes sharp. Alfred noticed she was nowhere near the other cat, ‘why didn’t you tell me it hurt?’

“Do you have friends?” Alfred joked, “Most of the cats you would find yourself talking to would have been pregnant before.”

‘That’s something personal…’ Hero grumbled, turning her head to him as he started petting her.

“... have you ever heard other animals?”

‘Okay this is the point you need to fuck off,’ she said, her tail swishing as Alfred scratched her behind the ears, making her instantly start purring, leaning into his touch.  
After about five minutes, Alfred took the crust out and took the parchment paper, dumping the rice back into the bag and throwing the parchment paper away before putting the crust back in the oven, checking on the electric mixer. It had a slight fluff. Needed more time.

After the crust was done, he got the lemon mixture and put it in, spreading it with a spoon before pouring the meringue on, spreading it before making circular motions and spiking the top.

Slowly leaving the kitchen and looking outside, he saw the back of Ivan’s head watching TV, and he backed up to his pie, holding his hand out over it. And setting his hand on fire.  
The blue flame danced over the meringue until it was dusted like it would be if he’d used a torch.

Lemon Meringue pie. 10/10 in his opinion, but he probably just liked lemon. Wouldn’t be that far off, his favorite cake was lemon.

Putting the elf biscuits in a plastic bag, he left them on the counter, and put the pie in the fridge, walking away to go sit on the couch. It had been almost an hour, and he craved human contact from his favorite person.

“Hey baby~” he cooed, wrapping his arms around his neck and giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Hello dorogoy,” Ivan said, turning his head to face him. 

“I’m tired,”

“I’m not surprised,” Ivan replied, petting his hair, seeing the Americans droopy eyes made his heart swell. God, he loved his little puppy, “you kept waking up last night.”

“I woke you up?!” Alfred exclaimed, “I’m so sorry!”

“You don’t need to be,” Ivan said, leading the American around the couch to set him on his lap, letting him cuddle up against him and grabbing a throw, laying it over him.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” Alfred muttered, “I want to stay awake with you.”

“If you promise to go to sleep, I'll tell you something.” 

“I promise,” Alfred said, looking at him with curiosity, his head tilted to the side.

“The diminutive of my name is Vanya,” Ivan replied, “only people who are close to me can call me that.”

“Oh!” he said, trying to act like he didn’t know that. Rulyn and Anastasia had already previously taught him diminutives for Russian (a concept that almost gave him a heart attack) and he had memorized most of the most common by now.

“Now, go to sleep,” Ivan cooed, kissing him on his eyelids as he giggled, nuzzling into his clavicle. He could hear the sound of soft breathing and felt a sense of pride. His. Only his.

Alfred woke up a few hours later, stumbled around while Ivan watched him with amusement, got food, and cuddled with his love until it came to sleep again.


	19. 19

Claws gripped his skin, refusing to let go. He was damned, damned-

They drew blood. He could see around him. Definitely Hell. Why was he dreaming of Hell? Hell was nothing he feared. 

The obsidian and gold of the streets shone back as he was dragged, and he looked around to try and decipher where in Hell he was. Silver and ruby fences enclosed him, each topped with wicked points, and the area around him was blooming with flowers. Off to the side he could see a giant pomegranate tree, surrounded by bricks of steel, and he realized where he was. 

He wasn’t afraid of Hell, and he wasn’t afraid of Hades either. This either was just some weird dream, or wasn’t a dream.

But he knew he could feel the pain. Whatever this was, it was real.

“How dead inside are you, I thought you’d struggle more.”

“Let me go Tisiphone,” Alfred replied, looking at the two furies carrying him, “I can walk.”

“Aww, but your so light! It’s fun to carry you,” Alecto cooed, her blonde hair swishing as her bat wings beat the air, making little to no sound.

“No,” Alfred replied, trying to get their grip off his arms. He probably looked like a mess too-

He looked down to reveal that he was in fact wearing his black formal cape embedded with many a precious gemstone, and a pair of tight black pants with a silver belt. No shoes, but that was fairly custom. He also noticed he was transformed, his body covered in it’s stripes, and he realized as he flexed his hand, that his claws were out too.

“Ah… I’m changed.”

“You think we would leave you hanging?” Alecto asked, laughing wildly.

“Oh, and by the way, it is definitely your personality that would keep a girl around.” Tisiphone chuckled, causing him to almost blush red if not for the uno reverse card he had.

“I’m allergic to pussy try again.”

Hence the three of them laughing, and him taking this as an option to try and struggle, the furies never faltering, yet Tisiphone did smack him on the top of the head and tried to poke him in the eye with her toe claw.

“Let him down,” Megaera said, coming up behind them after… probably securing the gate.

“Aww,” Alecto said, dropping half of him before Tisiphone dropped the other side, him landing on his feet and following behind the women, his coat dragging behind him. 

Megaera flew over him, going to open the door to the castle of Hell. He could see life now. Servants running around, Thanatos perched up on a column like a creepy living gargoyle, Hermes was buzzing around at the speed of light, possibly vying for some sort of nymphs attention, and the gardeners that helped care for Persephone’s monster of a garden.

The door opened to reveal a smiling Persephone.

“OH MY DARLING ALFIE~”

She exclaimed, picking him up. He squeaked before realizing it was death flower mom and hugging her back. 

“Uh… what’s happening? Is my body actually here?” he asked, tilting his head as Persephone put him down.

“No, you look like your sleeping to outsiders,” she said before pouting, “I wish we could bring your king down, but hubby says that he wouldn’t take to kindly to that. Is it because he’s Orthodox? Satan would probably be fine with interrogating- I mean… asking him a few questions.”

He noticed that he could hear a heartbeat, and realized his body was in two places. Kinda cool that he could still hear Ivan’s heartbeat in another dimension.

“Most immortal beings don’t take to kindly to going to Hell in the first place…” Alfred responded, “and he doesn’t need to be interrogated.”

“Are you sure?” Persephone asked, tilting her head. Like a chameleon her skin changed from its normal shade of pink too a dark purple, and he instantly felt a little bad.

“Ya, I trust him,” Alfred nodded, her skin turning to a dull pink, “you get a haircut?”

“Huh?” she said, fingering the strands of her white hair. She was rocking a boy cut, “Oh, yes.”

“Louloúdi? (Flower?)” Hades asked, walking out to meet them. He had his scepter, and his hair was tied up into a knot. He was clean shaven, and his crown adorned his head. It was only then he realized that Persephone wasn’t wearing hers, and he was a little confused.

“King Hades, we got Chief Dyami!” Tisiphone interjected, extending her wings to draw more attention.

“I noticed, you three are excused,” Hades sighed, as the three flew off, “you may be wondering why you’re here.”

“Not really,” Alfred shrugged, “shit like this just happens.”

“I always forget how calm you are…” Persephone muttered, both ignoring her.

“Only to organize a festival. What day would be best? You are with your husband for five more days, correct?”

“June 5th is the ceremony…” he muttered, “we’re most definitely busy on the 20th through the 22nd…”

“June 1st?” Persephone asked, looking to him.

“That’ll work. I alert my clan,” he said, smiling to the two. Persephone smiled back, and Hades nodded.

“I better be getting back now-”

“Dyami!” a male voice exclaimed, and he heard flapping.

“Cousin!” Dyami said, spinning around to face Satan, who was smiling widely at him. He was picked up off the ground by the happy fallen angel.

“General Lucifer, how was your mission?” Hades asked, Satan almost dropping his cousin (something Alfred wouldn’t have been too mad about).

“I dropped them off with Amy,” he said, putting Alfred back down.

“Good,” Hades nodded, “Dyami, you’re getting a shipment from me on the 23rd. Be prepared.”

“Will do,” he said, “bye Hades, bye Persephone, bye Lucy.”

And then it disappeared to black, and he tried to stop himself from shooting off the bed. He could hear gentle humming, and felt lips connect to his temple.

He heard the humming leave, and the door closed, and he ‘woke up’. He got his glasses, changed his clothes, and looked over himself in the mirror. Nothing… noticeable. There were claw marks in his arms, but those would go away in a few minutes.

‘Master,’ Hero purred, jumping up on the bed, ‘kits.’

“No,” he responded, “I swear I should have gotten you spayed.”

‘No Master wait!’ she cried, ‘Listen to my reasoning!’

“Hero, you already did and you regret it.”

‘Please!’

“... no…” Alfred sighed, “we don’t need to know that.”

‘Please! I made my choice!’

“You’re gonna rebel if I don’t,” he said, as she nodded, “you already know it will hurt.”

‘Yes!’ Hero cried, flicking her tail, ‘Please!’

“Go out into the woods, I don’t want to hear you,” he muttered as she lit up, jumping up and running to the door, opening it before running off.

He walked out, mildly irritated that he couldn’t win an argument with his cat. Jesus, his kids were easier to control than Hero.

He let the cats out back and left the door cracked open, before walking over to the kitchen, where he heard Ivan.

“Hey baby,” he whispered, coming up behind his boyfriend and wrapping his arms around him.

“Good morning moy podsolnukh (my sunflower),” Ivan said, continuing to cook, “how did you sleep?”

“Good-” he nuzzled into his scarf- “how about you?”

“Fine,” he shook his head, turning around and kissing him on the top of his head, “have you seen the cats?”

“They wanted to go outside,” Alfred said, “Hero will drag Lamp Cat back anyways.”

“Lamp Cat?” Ivan asked, smirking down at his tiny lover. Alfred looked up at him, confused, before his face erupted with red.

“Lampushka,” he stuttered, trying not to be embarrassed by the fact he spoke. Actually what the fuck.

“You’re being jumpy again,” Ivan said, petting his hair, “there’s no reason to be scared.”

“Touche,” Alfred sighed, kissing Ivan on the cheek, “you cook I clean?”

“Sure,” Ivan said as Alfred came out of his grasp and started walking away. Like second nature, he reached out to pull him back, before stopping himself.

What was he thinking?

He sighed and continued working.

‘Ru, package from Hell on the 23rd.’

‘You’re already home by the 23rd?’

‘Early warning.’

‘Of course.’

He hummed to himself, thinking of how to occupy himself. He was getting really bored.

He could call Mattie…

His little brother would probably answer him, even though they had a pretty rocky relationship. I mean… his brother was terrified of getting murdered by him, so why wouldn’t he   
answer?

It rang for a few seconds, he put it on speaker, placing it on the coffee table.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice broke through. He was panting, like he was doing something active.

“Hey Mattie!” he exclaimed. He heard a mini gasp from Matthew, and he knew that he hadn’t checked his caller ID. Did nobody know how to check their caller ID.

“Oh! Hello America!” Matthew replied, and Alfred frowned, but held in his sigh. It would scared his little brother more than needed.

“Had any more bad dreams?” Alfred asked, recalling his brothers prophetic dreams of seeing someone who looked like him and acted like him, but with supernatural powers and   
different skin. Really the only reason he has those dreams is because, like in the case of narrator in The Shadow Over Innsmouth, he doesn’t understand how to just… go with it.

“Uh, yes actually… lots of weird dancing I can’t describe…” he muttered. This was the easiest way to get him to open up to Alfred, and he was gonna milk it for all it could give him.

“Anything else?” Alfred asked, picking his nails. God his brother could bore him, but it was best to try and convince him not to transform into his true form, which had (thankfully) long been held off by wearing crucifixes and other holy symbols not acquainted with their- his religion.

“Monstrously tall people controlling the elements with their hands. I swear to God I got cursed as soon as I stopped wearing my necklace!” he cried, and Alfred had to hold in another sigh.

“Mattie, your necklace kept making Romania cry,” he said, “you can’t wear it.”

“I can’t wear it to meetings- but I can wear it around my house!” he cried, suddenly hysterical. Jesus… what was he a woman with tuberculosis?

“Then wear it,” Alfred replied, “or is it you want to become a demon with all those other monsters?”

“Don’t even say that Alfie!”

There it was.

“Hey, just saying the truth,” Alfred surrendered. This was a fast and easy way to keep some of his bigger secrets. Being Mattie’s brother, he would be at the top list of suspects for   
having a case of demon, and he wasn’t risking China, England, or Norway exposing him for such. Or Russia finding out without his permission.

Or he could just put a spell on Matthew and make it so if he transforms he’ll know instantly…

Or he could get someone else to do the exact same spell… and have less work for himself.

“I’ll wear it from now on! These fudging dreams better stop!”

“Ya, the fucking dreams better stop before I go over and make sure you don’t have some sort of Satanic symbol over your bed or something.” Alfred said. He was fairly used to the use of such symbols. His people used them to prank bystanders. Because his people could be assholes all the time.

“Thanks big brother!” Matthew exclaimed, probably in a much better mood now (he couldn’t act, so that was what Alfred was going off of), although he had no idea how much his throat would hurt from all his ‘yelling’. He hung up.

“Was that your brother?” Ivan asked, setting a plate on his lap and sitting beside him.

“Yep!” Alfred exclaimed happily, eating whatever food Ivan gave him. He really didn’t care, he just wanted food.

“Oh, by the way, remember that party?” Alfred said, looking over while Ivan seemed to falter a little.

“It’s today…”

“Why else would I have made all that food?” Alfred asked, tilting his head.

“Will they even like me?” Ivan countered, “I’m Russian.”

Alfred started laughing, having to try not to choke on the food in his mouth before saying: “the only thing in this country that hates you is Fox News. You’re fine. There’ll be a few sadists though. Watch yourself, some bite.”

“Bite?” Ivan asked, Alfred continuing to stuff his face.

“I’m being literal. I wouldn’t bring the scarf.” Alfred said, Ivan suddenly getting self conscious, reaching up and touching the precious gift from his sister.

“I…” he tried. He didn’t understand. What did his scarf have to do with being bitten?

“You don’t want to get dragged around. People’ll do it with ties too,” Alfred yawned, stuffing his mouth even more.

“Oh… Alfred, you’ve seen my scars-”

“Just wear bandages around your neck. Nobody will ask.” Alfred interrupted, finishing his plate. Ivan tried to figure out why nobody would ask before he realized. People would   
either think he was previously injured, suicidal, or pastel gothic.

“I’m going to go do the dishes,” Alfred said, getting up and walking off, “give me yours when your done!”

“I will,” Ivan muttered. He had gotten far fewer than Alfred, and it was a little nerve wracking that Alfred gorged himself. What if he threw it up? But he could hear the plates clicking, and his fear was diminished. 

It only took so long before the two had eaten and were changed, Alfred taking an extra long time in the bathroom, which severely worried him.

He came out, smoky makeup around his eyes and dark red lips.

“Oh my god you’re beautiful,” Ivan blurted out as Alfred started laughing, grabbing his wallet and slipping a tube of lipstick into it.

“How sweet~” he purred with a smirk, walking over and placing a hand on Ivan’s chest, the Russian reaching up to cup his cheek, the American nuzzling into the action.  
Ivan placed a gentle kiss on his lips, Alfred laughing as he pulled away.

“Might want a mirror sweetie,” 

“Did you get lipstick on me?” he asked, walking over to the mirror. Just like he expected, his lips were tinted red.

“That’s what you get for kissing me before my lipstick dries!” Alfred exclaimed, walking past him as Ivan tried to get it off. Alfred started packing the things he’d made into the car, Ivan helping him (even though he didn’t seem to need it). It was only so long before the engine started and they were on their way.

They got into town and drove to a house. Alfred seemed to know what he was doing so Ivan left him be. They parked in front of a house with a few other cars also in front of it, and they sat.

“Are we… going in?” Ivan asked, looking at him.

“Nah, I like to be on time,” he pointed to the cars clock, which read 9:58 in bright red letters.

“Uh…”

“Just because I don’t go to those stupid meetings on time doesn’t mean I’m not on time for things I actually care about.” Alfred said with a chuckle.

“Oh…” Ivan sighed, reaching over and petting his hair for the time being, Alfred leaned onto his shoulder.

Something banged into the window and both jumped, until Alfred started wheezing with how hard he was laughing.

“What is that?” Ivan said, just about to open the door.

“Dildo,” he chuckled as Ivan stilled. Someone threw a dildo at their car? What?

“Why… is it on the car-”

Someone ran out of the house and took the dildo off the window, bending down to reveal a girl with messy gold hair and big brown eyes. Alfred opened the door and yelled over the roof: “No need to be a bitch, Xenia.”

“There is always a need to be a bitch!” she exclaimed, “Hurry up Alfred! Nobody cares if you’re punctual!”

“I do!”

They started arguing. Ivan got out of the car, yet neither seemed to care besides Xenia stopping him from walking away by grabbing him by the coat.

“I always forget you open your mouth as much as your legs,” Xania said.

“Oh bitch, don’t you know the rules?” Alfred replied with a smirk, “Talk shit get bit.”

“Go join a furry cult.”

“I would rather not join you,” Alfred said, looking her up and down before flat out laughing.

Ivan lost interest from there. Alfred seemed perfectly happy to defend himself, so he didn’t bother saying something in an argument he didn’t understand.  
It took a good two minutes of insulting each other before Xenia exclaimed: “I missed ya’ friend!” and the two hugged. Her attention was dragged to him and she walked over, looking at him with curious eyes.

“Damn. Why do you get the hotties?” she muttered as Alfred started laughing, “And he’s tall. Holy Jesus in hell.”

“I leave my house-”

“Don’t be daft.” she said, looking him over one last time before holding her hand out to him, “Xenia Ebony at your service.”

“Ivan Braginski,” he replied, taking her hand. He noticed that she had a particularly strong grip. He also noticed Alfred grabbing the food he had made.

She hummed before motioning to the house: “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

Ivan nodded, and the two followed her as she went into the house. It was calm, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

The house itself was fairly normal. The air conditioner was running, a sink was on, and there was a conversation filtering in from the living room.  
Alfred instantly propped himself on a couch, and a few women and a man recognized him and jumped up to greet him. There were about eight people in the room besides the trio, and he didn’t know if there would be more.

He also recognized Tora and that darker skinned teen from the bar.

“Queen!” the darker skinned teen exclaimed, running up and jumping around Alfred.

“What the fuck do you want?” Alfred replied, another person throwing a water bottle at his head, him flipping said person off.

“Death,” 

“Russel!” an eastern man exclaimed, “Sit your ass down!”

“Fuck you!”

They started fighting. He found out that the eastern man’s name was Raidyn, and another girl with brown hair and black eyes was named Lilith.

There was a muscular guy off on the side with medium length, messy, dirty blonde hair, chatting with a guy with black haired man while tuning a banjo. A taller women had an   
incredibly tiny woman on her lap. A ginger woman was sitting on the top of the couch, and another man, latino, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his head on the gingers lap. Someone was sitting on the kitchen counter talking to Tora.

“Shut up ye bastards,” Xenia yelled, “we have a newbie.”

“OWO?” Tora exclaimed, spinning around on her heel, “Oh, he ain’t new.”

“New to some of us,” the muscular man said, flashing him a smile, “name’s Apollo, you?”

“Ivan,” he said, slightly irked by all the smiling. Americans were just smiley people, he had to remember that.

Wait… Apollo? That was… that was Apollon, wasn’t it?

Why was he named after a greek god?

“Octavius,” the black haired man beside him said, nodding.

“Hazel-Ruth, you can call me either,” the ginger nodded, before looking back to whatever she saw on the wall.

“Judith,” the tiny woman said, looking increasingly irritated that she was being held.

“Jacqueline,” the woman holding her said, giving a slight closed eye smile.

“Lilith,” the one he already knew was Lilith said, her arms crossed as she glared at Xenia.

“Raidlyn,”

“Russel,”

“Titus,” the man leaning on Hazel-Ruth muttered.

“Graham,” the man, who now wasn’t on the counter, said, as the sound of a tea kettle went through the house.

“You want tea or something stronger?” Lilith asked, motioning to the water bottles laying on the table.

“Tea is fine,” he nodded. What could be in water bottles anyways besides water?

It was fairly calm. Graham walked over with the kettle, Tora went over and laid on the other couch with Jacqueline and Judith.

“In honor of the tea that shall be spilled today, and the tea that shall be spilled in the future, we drink,” Graham said, pouring tea into the cups that were placed haphazardly on the table with the water bottles.

“No,” Alfred muttered, “I’m not drinking that shit.”

“Some politician called the alphabet mafia the KKK,”

“I will drink that tea,”

Oh so it was gossip. That made more sense.

Now to try and figure out what the alphabet mafia was.

“This is the point where you just need to leave the gays alone,” Octavius grumbled.

Ah, the alphabet mafia was the homosexual community.

“Oh, we don’t spill tea when it comes to intolerance honey,” Russel shook his head and waved his finger, “we throw the goddamn cup.”

Hence a few sly chuckles.

“When are we impeaching fatty?” Judith asked, raising a brow. A few people smirked, besides Alfred, who got the most evil expression on his face.

“Why call him fatty? There are much better demeaning names for him. Pumpkin? Maybe Orange?” Many of the group started laughing, “Or you could really go into it. Homophobic,   
transphobic, islamiphobic, racist, sexist, classist asshole?”

“The pumpkin asshole,” Lilith said, smiling, “it’s perfect.”

“No need for such long titles,” Jacqueline laughed, “when three words work just as well!”

The group laughed, besides Ivan and Apollo, although Apollo looked mildly pleased. Ivan wasn’t sure if they were talking about the president or not.

It was fairly calm. Very little yelling so far.

Until another woman walked in, completely shirtless… with nothing but a pair of jean short-shorts on.

“Apollo, you ripped my shirt,” she growled, “and where the fuck did you put my bra?”

Why did nobody seem to care. Everyone just stayed, their feet propped up with nonchalant looks on their faces.

Well besides Alfred, who was giving Apollo a death glare.

“Did you check under the bed?” Apollo asked, avoiding the look Alfred gave him with all his power.

“Yes, where is it?” she snapped, “You didn’t steal it, did you perv?”

“Of course not love-”

“Don’t sweet talk me. Where’s my clothes.”

“Uh-”

“I knew it you fucker,” she growled. Alfred slipped off his shirt and handed it to her, and she took it gratefully, running into the kitchen without much of a second glance towards   
the other blond.

“Apollo, explain right now,” Alfred said, turning on his heel towards him, a look that screamed murder on his face.

“We were wrestling, I tore her shirt, she walked around in her bra for a good three hours before going to sleep and at some point took it off and now she’s blaming me-”

“Second?” Alfred said, looking around.

“That’s what happened,” Xenia shrugged, “although none of us know where her bra is.”

“Maybe she just wanted the jiggle?” Jacqueline joked, Judith smacking her in the face with her elbow, making the girl yelp and cover her nose.

“Maybe you could,” Titus yawned, “ya’know… shut up.”

“Fuck off,” Tora defended them.

“Just trying to sleep.” he muttered, Hazel-Ruth looking down on him with disappointment.

“You slept fine,” she said, grabbing him by the hair and pulling. Nobody seemed bothered as he cried out, clawing at her arm.

Octavius walked over to Lilith and the two started talking.

The doorbell rang, and Alfred went to answer it. Ivan wanted to follow him, but then he’d look like a lost puppy.

“Cole? Sami?” Alfred said, opening the door, “Why are you here?”

“Beer,” Sami said, slipping past him and walking towards the living room.

“We were curious about your… mate,” he said, “Rulyn also wants to speak with you, eye to eye.”

“I don’t see her,” he replied, raising a brow.

He got handed a glowing blue marble and groaned. Jesus, why did it have to be a hologram? He looked like shit on holograms!

“I know,” Cole patted his shoulder, maneuvering him back and closing the door, locking it behind him before walking with Alfred towards the living room, “this is more curiosity inspired though, feel a little lucky.”

“I still despise holograms,” he muttered, his eyes widening as he saw the sight before him.

“Ah, so you’re Alfred’s boyfriend~?” Sami purred, a dangerous tint to her voice as she almost picked Ivan up off the ground. He was taller, but she was more threatening, her grip tight on his collar and her eyes icy and cold, more so than his own. She had a mini power over life and death, you looked into her eyes for so long when they were cold, and you’d end up commiting suicide.

Alfred almost spoke, but he choked on his words.

“If you break his heart, I will watch as you walk off a cliff to your death,” she threatened, Russel and Raidyn shooting up and grabbing her by the shoulders, trying to get her to let   
go of the Russian. 

She let go and was dragged back, Ivan staring at her with a mixed form of fear and bewilderment.

“Sami! What the fuck!” Alfred yelled, gaining his senses back, “Threatening ain’t cool.”

She fixed him with the same glare, and he felt tingles run up his spine as his body fought between fight or flight mode.

“I’m only being protective, you know me,” she countered, her eyes carrying their same fire as she took a step forward, him being trapped in place.

“Samantha, knock it off,” Cole said, talking to her with his eyes closed. It made her glare numb and void. Her eyes narrowed, and they lost the coldness that had spread over them.

“Fine,” she growled, before turning to Ivan, “but I hold true to my promise.”

“I’d believe it,” Ivan said without much else, his eyes wide as his body tried to figure out what the fuck it was supposed to be doing.

It… calmed down… from there. Kinda. Less violence more making fun of Stalin and Hitler while Ivan questioned his life choices. Apollo gave him a pat on the back, and he found out that the past shirtless girl was named Aislinn.

Alfred went between bursts of energy and staring at the floor like he normally did, and Ivan wanted nothing more than to leave. He also found out that it was not water in the water bottles and was instead vodka. Pleasant surprise.

“Al! Sing for us!” Russel exclaimed, many voicing their agreement.

Apollo smiled and took out a guitar from somewhere, handing it to the other. Alfred just put it by his feet, opting for acapella.

“Double bubble disco queen headed to the guillotine, skin as cool as Steve Mcqueen, let me be your killer king.”

A few let shouts of approval before realizing he stopped.

“I need money if you want me to sing the entirety of Victorious.” Alfred stated as a few people started laughing. Ivan shook his head fondly. He was curious to what Alfred would do next. His siren voice was tantalizing to the ears and he couldn’t help but want to hear more.

“Fine, do whatever,” Russel grumbled with a pout, walking over and sitting on Titus’ lap, the man looking at him with mild hatred.

“Beata Mary, you know I am a righteous man, of my virtue I am justly proud,” Alfred sang, many eyebrows shooting up as they tried to figure out what he was singing. Ivan was curious to see if he was singing about the virgin Mary.

“Beata Mary, you know I'm so much purer than, the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd…” his voice went off, “then tell me, Mary, why I see him dancing there, why his smoldering eyes still scorch my soul.”

Him?

“I feel him, I see him, the sun caught in his snowy hair, is blazing in me out of all control!”

He heard Cole chuckle from beside him as he almost blushed, doing his best to not become a strawberry.

“Like fire, hellfire, this fire in my skin, this burning desire, is turning me to sin.”

“It's not my fault! I'm not to blame! It is the gypsy boy, the witch who sent this flame!” he really did sound beautiful, “It's not my fault, if in God's plan, he made the devil so much,   
stronger than a man~”

“Protect me, Mary, don't let this siren cast his spell,” he was the siren now? Curious, he wasn’t the one singing acapella perfectly, “don't let his fire sear my flesh and bone. Destroy Vanya, and let him taste the fires of Hell, or else let him be mine and mine alone.”

Oddly violent, but that just seemed to be the American way™.

“Hellfire, dark fire, now gypsy, it's your turn,” he got softer and deeper, bringing a creepy edge to his voice, “choose me or your pyre. Be mine or you will burn!”

“God have mercy on him,” his voice went back up, sounding desperate. It was quiet, many just looking at him with awestruck expressions, besides Sami who was smiling like a   
loon, “God have mercy on me, but he will be mine, or he will burn!”

He got a standing ovation.

“Why chose the creepy priest song?” Raidyn asked, laughing.

“I’m tired okay!”

After some time, Alfred slipped away, nobody batting an eye. Ivan was about to follow before his coat was grabbed and he was pulled back into his seat. He realized that Alfred was right when he said he would get dragged around a lot, because that’s all that seemed to be happening.

“Give him a second,” Cole whispered to him, “he could be having a breakdown. Best to leave him alone.”

“But-”

“No. Stay,” Cole replied, “trust me. It’s better for him to be left alone.”

Alfred went through the hall, slipping into the bathroom and keeping the lights off, taking the marble out of his pocket and placing it on the rim of the bathtub, leaning against the door while it loaded and Rulyn came out.

Her flickering image appeared, a 2D image of her, but tinted entirely blue.

“Hello,” she said, blinking quickly, probably as his image appeared.

“Greetings,” he replied, “What do you want?”

“To make sure you’re safe,” Rulyn cooed, “you were mated.”

“It was a… spur of the moment sort of thing…” he muttered, looking away.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he replied with a sigh.

“Do you know him? Have you seen him in traffic? Drunk? High? Angry? Have you seen him around children? Babies? Does he pressure you? Does he hurt you?”

“Yes, he’s my goddamn mate, yes, we drove to a bar once in China with England and France, yes, he’s just really ditzy, no, he isn’t the weed type, yes, he holds himself back because he gained self control, yes, he loves kids, yes, he loves babies, no, he’s nice as fuck to me, no, he’s never hurt me once since we got to the fucking house.”

“What have you become?” she continued, ignoring his previous statement, “Monster or mage?”

“I-”

“The good king has as many scars as the wretched beggar,” Rulyn growled, her teeth growing longer and sharper as she bared them defensively, “question is: what is he?”

“... he is an enigma, charred angel,” Alfred countered, his eyes going black. He was prepared to defend himself and his mate.

“Don’t be biased,” she said, forcing herself to calm down, “you know you are. What shall you be next? Defenseless?”

“Don’t speak to me like that, Second,” Alfred growled, baring his teeth. Like Rulyn’s, they had started to get longer and sharper, “you know better.”

“Says the person yelling,” she said, raising a brow, “I’m your Second in Command, not a damn dog.”

Forcing himself to calm down, he held his arms to his sides and felt his claws start to poke into his palm, “I know. I’m calm.”

“Liar,” she said, starting to pick at her nails, not meeting his gaze, “but when will you figure out if he’s using you? Everyone’s been hurt, but you won’t recover. I don’t want to be   
the one telling your children why you aren’t coming back home.”

He was silent for a few seconds, his gaze to the floor. Why was it that the floor tiles seemed so much more interesting?

“I will come home,” he said, meeting her eyes. They were bright yellow and slitted like a snake’s, and he knew his eyes still carried their darkness.

“And I will be prepared for your arrival,” she nodded, her lips curling into a smirk, “fix your eyes and get back, I have to figure out how to make a big cake.”

“Big cake?” he asked the air as the hologram disappeared, the room turning pitch black, yet he could still see. What was a big cake for? Was that code for something?  
Uh… why did she choose now to be vague?

After a few more hours, they went back home (not having to bring the food back because it was practically inhaled), Alfred took his makeup off, and cried into Ivan’s arms for almost half an hour until his body ran out of tears and he was choking on his own spit because he didn’t know what else to do because he was scared.

Rulyn was right, and he didn’t want to face the facts. He made a quick choice in the spur of the moment and now he just had to sit in his self-pity but he couldn’t because...

“Shh…” Ivan cooed, kissing his hair, “please don’t cry. I don’t like it when you cry.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ivan muttered, kissing his forehead and letting him nuzzle back into his chest

“I-” he choked again- “I love you.”

“I love you too dorogoy,”


	20. 20

He could feel breathing tickle the back of his head, and two arms wrapped around his waist, resting on the small of his back.  
It was warm. It was so warm and he loved it.

Opening his eyes, he studied the scarf he was cuddled up against. It smelled so strongly of Ivan, much more than Ivan himself did, and he wondered how long it had been since he’d washed it.

Moving just a bit, he noticed his head was tucked under the Russians chin, and their legs were tangled, one of his legs thrown haphazardly over Ivan’s hip and the other curled around his other leg.

Goal one: don’t wake Ivan up.

Goal two: make breakfast.

But he didn’t want to get up. He was so comfortable and it was so warm and he just wanted to stay right here and go back to sleep-

“Dobre utro,” Ivan muttered, running his hands up and down Alfred’s spine and making him wiggle closer. He didn’t want to move.

“Good morning,” Alfred replied.

“You want breakfast?”

“No-” he gripped onto Ivan’s scarf- “don’t leave!”

“Okay, angel moi (My angel/Angel mine).”

Alfred, pleased, cuddled back into Ivan’s grasp.

“What will we be after this?” Ivan asked, suddenly, his voice wavering as if he was sad.

“Boyfriends?” Alfred replied, confused by his wording.

“We only see each other at meetings,” Ivan said, “and I… can’t tell my boss.”

“I think you can,” Alfred chuckled, “if you’re scared about how he’ll react I can tell him.”

“Really?”

“Where’s your phone,” Alfred said, Ivan leaving the cuddle to go get his phone where it was plugged into the wall, opening it with the passcode and handing it to the American.

“This one,” Ivan said, pointing to an ID that just said boss in Russian.

“Got it.”

There was ringing. What time was it in Russia? It was only seven here. A little late but whatever.

“Hello? What is it?” Russia’s boss said in Russian, Alfred stalling for a few seconds.

“English?”

“Oh, you aren’t- nevermind,” his boss sighed, “what is it, America?”

“I’m dating your nation now.”

All Ivan wanted to do was smack his head into the wall at lightning speed until his brain stopped working. Alfred seemed to be trying his best to not flat out laugh, and the boss had gone silent.

“...What?”

“I’m dating Russia, y’know, your nation?” Alfred replied, Ivan holding his head in his hands and trying his best to not self delete.

“You two actually got along long enough to ‘hook up’ as you Americans say,”

“Yep! Also, not what hook up means but A for effort.”

“Alfred,” Ivan whispered with a warning tone, “don’t say that to him.”

“Is Russia there to back your claim?”

“Yep!”

“Russiya, kakogo cherta ty tam delayesh’? (Russia, what the fuck/hell are you doing over there?)”

“Ya ne dumal, chto on budet takim tupym! (I didn’t think he’d be so stupid!)”

“Eto pravda ili net? (Is it true or false?)”

“...Pravda.”

“Ya razocharovanie v vas, (I am disappointed in you)” his boss sighed, “no delay kak hochesh’. (But do what you want.)”

“Spasibo bolshoe (thank you so much),” Ivan said, hope filling his eyes.

Alfred, who understood the entire conversation, smiled as Ivan got happy.

“Bez razitsy (whatever),” his boss said, hanging up.

Alfred went over as Ivan sat down, sitting on his lap and wrapping his arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. He could feel Ivan’s smile dance across his lips as he wrapped his legs around his waist.

“I love you so much,” Alfred said, smiling widely. He could see how much Ivan adored him just in his gaze, and it made his heart jump and his eyes water.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Alfred’s smile somehow got brighter, connecting their lips once again, trapping Ivan against the bed frame.

Hands ran up his thighs and he started laughing, sitting on Ivan’s stomach as his lover looked up to him.

He went to wipe the tears that had escaped his eyes, but Ivan pushed himself up to kiss them away.

“I love you too,” Ivan whispered, shaking his head gently.

Alfred leaned down, resting his head on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat. It was calming to him, his senses leaving him as his eyes shut.

“We have permission to exist,” Ivan said, “now what? What about you, ya need to call your Director?”

“Already did, more than a week ago,” Alfred said, smirking against his skin and leaving a kiss against the scars over his neck.

Ivan sighed, Alfred kissing him on the temple.

Liar-

Hm?

Danger.

How?

Choke.

Why?

Now.

His palm came to rest on the front of Ivan’s throat, the Russian looking up at him in confusion before he pressed down with little force, at least for him.

Ivan went into shock, grabbing onto Alfred’s hand, sputtering as he did so, trying to just get the force off for very little reason that it was on his main scar. He felt the pressure lessen, and he grabbed onto Alfred’s wrist and with as much force as he could, pushed him away. The American growled as his assault was compromised, grabbing Ivan’s scarf and wrapping his hands as few times before pulling, getting a look of deranged satisfaction as he did so.

Ivan could feel the fabric being used against him- the raised skin where his neck had been scarred rubbing against it as it was pulled tighter. It was impossible to choke him like this, so he wasn’t worried about getting hurt. What hurt, and bothered him the most though was that Alfred was doing this. Why? Oh… wait.

‘Look down!’ another voice in his head warned as he did so, relaxing his drip on Ivan’s scarf.

He felt his more demonic side take the wheel. 

Keeping his eyes closed, he released his grip on the Russian’s scarf, petting the fabric to figure out what it was before tracing his hand up to Ivan’s neck, to his jawbone, to cup his cheek.

“Wha… what happened,” Alfred said, his throat dry. He felt sick to his stomach.

Ivan looked up to him, his eyes wide.

“Ivan?” Alfred asked, tilting his head. He couldn’t… figure out what was wrong. Something erased from his memories and he couldn’t figure out what.

‘Master…’ he heard Hero say, worried, ‘Master, you… you tried to hurt him.’

‘More like choke,’ Lampushka said, a growl etching into his tone.

“Oh my God!” Alfred exclaimed, his eyes shot open, “Ivan are you okay?!”

“More shocked,” Ivan said, breathing quickly. He pushed himself up and wiggled out from under Alfred. 

“I’m so sorry!” Alfred cried, “I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“Alfred, do you know what that was?”

“...I. I don’t know,” he muttered, crossing his arms. He couldn’t think straight. It hurt. It hurt so badly and he couldn’t figure out what it was that hurt exactly. Everything. His stomach, to his head, his muscles.

“Ivan,” Alfred said, crawling over and connecting their foreheads, trying his best not to cry, “if you want to, anytime, you can hurt me. You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Alfred, you didn’t hurt me,” the Russian shook his head, “and don’t say anything like that. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But I-”

“No,” Ivan growled, “You didn’t hurt me, you just grabbed my scarf and forgot what you were doing.”

“You’re trying to convince yourself,” Alfred whined, “I hurt you! I tried to choke you!”

“Then you have no idea how to choke someone,” Ivan deadpanned, wrapping his arms around Alfred and pulling him close as he started crying. He had already realized Alfred had a chance of doing something like this. When you’re in constant fight or flight mode you don’t always flight.

He got anxious because of the phone call, hid it, then after it passed all his emotions came out and he tried to ‘choke’ him.

“I’m so sorry!”

“You need to stop hiding your emotions,” Ivan replied, “it’s gotten to the point you don’t even realize your hiding them anymore. You’re so used to just being able to cut yourself that you don’t realize that you can get your anger out by hurting other people.”

Alfred fell silent, staring at the wall.

Ivan was right.

He noticed that he could feel tingling on the back of his neck, where the bite was. He could sense Ivan’s emotions. He was so worried about him. The one who hurt him.

He didn’t deserve Ivan.

And then he started bawling his eyes out, Ivan hugging him and humming slightly while rocking him gently, letting him calm himself down. He was emotional because this was the last of his emotions from the phone call.

“I want to be with you forever,” Alfred whispered.

“Ya tozhe, moyu lyubov. (Me too, my love.)”


	21. 21

He groaned and opened his eyes. He awoke before the alarm, which was better than being awoken by the alarms, but it was burning hot. He noticed there was something laying its head on his chest, a furry thing curled up near his head, something not so furry on the other side of his head, and something heavy on his legs.

Looking up, he also saw a certain bald eagle sleeping on the metal bed frame, as well as a bearded vulture, Shad, his brothers thunderbird, Thunder, and a golden eagle, who was either Kasha or Gingersnap.

Why was his brother’s wolf laying on him? Jesus.

“Kanti, off,” he muttered, the wolf’s ears swiveling before she woke up, going to lick his face as he tried his best to push her away. The thing on his legs shifted, and he noticed that it was a panther. Specifically, his panther.

“Felis, get off,” he sighed, the big cat moving before laying back down next to his lynx, Lyncas.

He pushed himself up, noticing that there was a random brown tabby and a male anaconda next to his head. The cat wasn’t too unusual, but most of the time the snakes tended to go back to their cages, where it was warmer.

Pushing himself off the bed, he noticed when he walked around his bed, a golden tiger, probably Gypsum, and a white borzoi, Mochalka, laying at the foot of his bed on the tiny little carpet.

They say big cats act differently than house cats.

Well they were wrong.

He changed, put on deodorant and brushed his teeth, fixed his hair, and left, his two pets following behind him as well as Kanti.

“Conner!” he heard Noah yell from behind him as he stopped, turning around.

“Ya?”

“Have you seen Flame?” Noah asked, walking beside him.

“Arkansas’ fox?”

“Ya that one!” Noah exclaimed, “The kids going off about it.”

“Call it in after breakfast, the things probably just getting scraps or hunting for a rat,” Conner sighed, “y’all tend to forget they were originally wild.”

“Big Brother,” Noah deadpanned, “you have a panther following you.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“But here’s the thing: the last time he saw the fox is when he went to check the gate,” Noah said, referring to the gate that connected the household to the road, “and he’s worried that Flame ran off onto the road and got hit by a car.”

“Flame is immortal,” Conner said, looking at his brother with pure sarcastic awe, “it’s almost like if he died Arkansas would immediately know.”

“Oh.”

“What are you idiots going on about?” Awenita asked, her hooves clicking on the ground as she walked over, knitting flowers into her antlers and she went. The white spots that dotted her shoulders were less prominent in the light, and her dark skin (and the fact that the lights weren’t on yet) made her look like she came from the wall.

“Arkansas lost his fox,” Conner replied, reaching up and taking a shriveled leaf from his sister’s flower work.

“It’s a fox, what do you expect it to do? Sit on your shoulder and sing lullabies?”

Conner started snickering, and Noah was mixing the pot between livid and facts.

Kele walked by them, smacking Noah on the head before booking it. Coahoma followed behind, her head high as her claws clicked the ground.

The shrill sound of the alarms going off made all three jump, and Awenita ran off to join Adany and Minko, and Noah went to join Alameda.

Freedom flew over his head, Kanti chasing after the eagle. Conner leaned against the wall, Lyncas and Felis going over to sit beside him.

He waited for the chaos to die down before continuing. Looking down the stairwell, he noticed an assortment of Alfred’s kids sliding down the railing even though they weren’t supposed to and sighed, walking down from the sixth floor to the first. He was at least lucky in the fact that he wasn’t on the seventh like Alfred, even though Alfred normally just took the elevator or jumped about a hundred feet to the bottom of the stairs. Because he was stupid.

“Aw, little lady on her period~” Cole cooed sarcastically, getting a little close to Rulyn. Oh this would be entertaining.

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, why are you in such a sour mood? PMS?”

“Cole, I don’t get a period,” she said, pushing up his chin with her finger.

“Ya, and you’re fucking lucky!” Ava exclaimed.

Oh… ya, Ava would get one. She wasn’t born here or immortalized.

“I’m not getting teamed up against am I?” Cole said, taking a few steps back while the Russian took a few steps forward, pulling a knife from her belt.

“Why the fuck do you have that?!” Cole said, Rulyn chasing after him as he started doing option number run.

Less entertaining than he thought. 7/10.

Alaska walked by, carrying a sleeping Hawaii, Wisconsin smacked Michigan in the face, Ohio was arguing with West.

He better hurry before he’s trapped in state drama.

Sami and Bodaway were fighting on the floor, Bodaway getting his ass soundly kicked, the Romanovs were arguing… over a piercing… again, he heard some of his siblings yelling something about something why was it already so loud. This was stupid.

“Conner!” Sapphira yelled, running up to him with a fat book. Oh no.

“Yes?” he asked, trying to decide whether he should just get his food then help her, or help her now and eat later. He nodded with a sigh as she opened the book.

“How do you pronounce that?” she said, pointing to the Cherokee word for copperhead.

“Tsuktatsisdahli, but you can just say tsawa,” he replied, as she got all bubbly.

“What about this one?” she pointed to the word for king snake.

“Ugwiyuhi,”

“This one?” she pointed at the word for hognose snake. Why was she just looking at the snake section? 

Oh… right… there was the names of all the snakes in Cherokee on their cage tags. But there was also the English word, so why did she need to know this.

“Gwanadayo.”

“Oh! I thought it said something else… thanks!” she exclaimed, running off as he went to scavenge through the remaining food, having a mini conversation with a few people around as he went.

Davie was in the rafters, something about one of the last angels visiting, a snake somehow got in the vents and the only reason they found out is because Alaska was up there again, the lake was starting to overflow with fish, which meant that the crocodiles and such had to be moved so nets could be put in, something about harvesting blood, there was a need for more ducks, chickens tried to get into the lettuce, and Rulyn wanting to talk to him. Couldn’t be anything good.

Or that he wanted to do.

Felis sat behind his chair as he sat down, Lyncas jumping up and laying on his lap. For some reason there were two Mackenzie Valley wolves on the table, as well as a lion and a leopard, but nobody seemed bothered. He gave a few peckings to a harpy eagle and some to a Sulimov that was licking his foot for some reason.

(I’m not using Sulimov as the breed {since Russia hordes them}, I’m using it as a general term for crossbreeds between jackals and dogs.)

“Conner,” Rulyn said as he tried his best not to groan, “I’m not gonna be home tomorrow, you’re in charge of the house, make sure it doesn’t burn down.”

“No promises,”

“It’s one day.”

“Get Cole to do that.”

“He’s unavailable,” Rulyn replied, “Samuel’s taking care of him in the hospital because apparently ‘I kicked him in the balls too hard’ or something.”

“Sami, Bodaway, or Lani.”

“They’ll burn it down on purpose, and Bodaway is coming with me.”

“Noah.”

“Do you trust Noah?”

“No.”

“It’s one day,” Rulyn said, petting his panther, “this isn’t up for debate.”

“Fine.”

“Good boy,” she cooed, patting him on the head and walking away.

He stayed silent for a few moments, trying to figure out what just happened, “I’m older than you!”

“I think everyone knows that!”

He gave up, grumbling to himself.

“Uncle?” Kingman said, pulling on his pants. The seven-year-old grabbed onto his pants, looking up to him with big light green eyes, “When is mama coming home?”

“Three or four days,” Conner replied, petting the boys hair, “where are your siblings?”

“Uh.” he said, looking around before pointing to the rest of Alfred’s youngest kids, “Over there.”

“I’m sure Jarvis and Nuero will love to play with you,” he said, the child looking up to him with curiosity, “now hurry along.”

“Okay uncle,” Kingman said, running off. 

It was only so long before people started standing and put their plates in the dishwasher before leaving. He was no different, Felis running off to go lounge somewhere and Lyncas following behind him. Walking out, he went through the garden, watching the one fairy that lived with them taking care of it. Where she stepped the leaves grew and the flowers bloomed.

“Did you eat?” he asked, her wings fluttering as she turned towards him, “I didn’t see you in the dining hall.”

“I grabbed enough dried fruit to feed me for a week,” Primrose replied, shaking a bag on her belt before pulling out a dried apple slice and chewing on it.

“Nice to see you’re doing well,” he joked as she shook her head.

“It’s going to rain in two days,” Primrose said into her radio, a few groans filtering through before she clipped it back onto her belt.

“At least it’s not tomorrow,” he sighed, thankfully.

“It’s a day, why do you complain so much.”

“I don’t complain-”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire, as you say,”

“As I say? I-”

“Don’t, I’m working, go to work.” Primrose said, turning him around and pushing him towards the job board before going on to make a few snapdragons and lilacs bloom.

Shaking his head, he walked over, looking through the list. It was fairly empty. The jobs went from vaguely uncomfortable to very easy to extremely difficult.

He could feed some birds.

He just had to find the bird feed.

Probably in the feed storage. That was the logical answer.

Walking out of the garden, he noticed that the horse were out and called one over, taking his stick out of his pocket and checking its collar.

“Hey Karie,” Conner said, petting her mane. She needed to be brushed.

Taking out his phone, he added ‘Groom the horses’ to the job board, silently leaving that for someone else to do because God knows he ain’t doing it.

Jumping up, he clicked his heel gently against her, the mare neighing as she went off, him leading her towards the storage area.

Jumping off, he opened the door so Chusi and Chumani could push their cart in, following behind them as they rolled it up a ramp and dumped it into a big oven/tumbler/blender that got used to make pet food. Maralah was butchering a cow, with Pachua, personification of the Hopi doing the same.

Walking away from them, he went into the back area, the real storage type area, and found what he was looking for, an assortment of seeds and a bucket of dead mice and rats in the freezer. Grabbing the mouse bucket, he walked out and connected it to Karie’s collar, then grabbed the wheeled trough of birdseed and put a lid on it, pulling it out of the back room and saying hello to his siblings as he walked by because he just realized he forgot to do that.

The ropes that he held the trough with were long enough, and the wheels were high enough, that he could just hold it and it would come nicely behind the horse instead of being a little bitch about it.

“Hai,” he said to his horse, the animal going into a trot. It didn’t seem to mind the dead rats or mice, but then again they were frozen.

As he got to the bird area he noticed a few already knew what time it was and came out for food, and he put the mouse bucket under Karie before dragging the trough out and popping the lid. That’s when he noticed that nobody had opened the door to the aviary yet.

Clicking the button, he saw an assortment of colorful birds fly out and tackle each other for that fat trough of birdseed. He also noticed a chicken tried to get up to the seed, but it was too fat, so it just kinda… stared.

A few hawks, eagles, and owls perched on the horse, waiting to get fed.

Grabbing the bucket, he handed a mouse to the smaller birds and a rat to the larger ones, eventually only having a few left. He just put them on the ground and left them.

“You can go now,” he said, petting the horse’s mane as she did the horse equivalent of nodding and cantered off towards a group of horses and a single deer. For some reason.

A large shadow passed over him and he noticed one of the dragons flying around, dipping into the trees before coming out.

What could he do… someone else would take the job list and go through it for fun.

With a sigh, he started walking along the mountain, eventually noticing a pass. A pass he knew.

“Coming up with me?” Maikoh asked, looking up at the dirt road.

“You’re the only one that could have fallen in love with a wendigo,” he replied, walking with her up the mountain. The area was like a trail path with how much had been excavated   
and moved, the area leading to an old crystal mine they had used to to make money after the Revolution. Small diamonds, pyrite, flint, gypsum, iron, and sphalerite had been found in the caves, and gold had been found in the stream.

The cave entrance was black against the sunlight, and it looked like it as just a black hole or entrance to hell instead of a normal cave.

They walked in without a second thought.

The stairs that had been carved out served their purpose, making the descent into Pennywise’s hole a little simpler.

“Hello Mai,” Warrock said, coming out of the darkness as the cave suddenly lit up, Mansi pulling a curtain open for the window that went to the outside world. 

Hakan was sprawled out on a faux fur carpet, and Igor was watching him with varying degrees of interest.

“Hello War,” she said, walking over to him as he bowed his head down, getting a kiss on the white skin of his head.

Wendigos weren’t exactly what people saw them as… they had white, deer shaped heads with the antlers of a moose or deer, long necks with either a mane or spikes or short fur,   
slender bodies, thin, long legs, and a white tail. For some reason people always say they’re skinny to the point of being 90% bone, and had long, knotted fur, but so did every hungry creature that didn’t have enough food to eat or enough time to care for itself.

And people barely made up their diets. They were much too big to survive on humans. It’s like asking a human to survive on one jerky stick a day, sometimes less.  
Each one measured about fifteen feet in length, although they were mostly just neck and tail.

Most of their long fur was black, and their shorter fur was normally dark grey. The only really… human thing about them was the fact they had opposable thumbs.

All of them fit the description to a t, besides Hakan who had red stripes and a red and white left leg.

“How are y’all,” he asked, Igor looking at him with the same look he had been giving Hakan, varying interest, before he flat out fell over.

“Excuse Igor,” Mansi said, “he’s been feeling under the weather recently, it would be best that he slept.”

“You guys need Samuel to come up here?” he asked, looking at her as she worked on flower crowns, one already hanging over where her right antler had been broken off in a   
fight, now only half of what it was before.

“He’ll be fine, don’t be bothered,” she replied with a sigh, “we’ll alert you if he suddenly doesn’t get better.”

“Hey Man,” Hakan said with a chuckle, “maybe instead of knitting flowers you could become a doctor.”

“Look me in the eyes and repeat that sentence.”

“Knock it off,” Warrock growled, “it’s still early.”

“Honey, it’s almost noon,” Maikoh said, looking at him, “I think you’re getting a little sick too.”

“I’m fine,”

“That’s what they all say,” Mansi said, looking over to him with disappointment, “and then they’re asleep on the ground in the living room.”

“That’s normal for Igor.”

“Well true, he’s always been sickly,” Mansi replied as Conner and Maikoh sat down, ready to have a random in depth conversation, first about illness, and then about Stalin, and then it went to President Roosevelt, then somehow to the Iron Lung. At least it stayed reasonably on illness.

“I heard about V-672,” Warrock said, “are they really that dumb to chose that one first?”

“That was the one they were most curious about,” Maikoh replied, “and the reason they chose that specimen specifically.”

“At least we know how to make one now,” Conner said with a shrug, “and it’s only a small one.”

“They’ll try D-364 or U-902 next,” Mansi growled, “we don’t even know if Alfred can control them.”

“Exactly, Rulyn put them on probation. They aren’t allowed to do anything besides take care of the one they have,” Conner chuckled, pleased with her decision. To say she was livid when they did that one instead of S-252 or G-654 first would be an understatement.

“Good.” 

“Thank the spirits,”

“Well, to go off your previous statement,” Hakan looked to him, “they do say knowledge is power.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Meow bitch,”

‘This is comedy,’ Lampushka said, laughing his ass off, ‘I have no idea how, but it is.’

“Oh shut it,” Alfred said, snickering, “I’m not the one who shits in a box.”

‘But you are the one who cleans it,’ 

“I don’t think you understand the concept of the fact that litter box is mechanical. I don’t even have to touch the fucker.”

‘Uh huh. Hero, what’s it like living in the Mansion.’

‘Better than here. There are so many creatures and they’re all very polite, and you can go hunt in the woods as long as you come back!’ Hero purred, getting pet by her owner as   
he smiled softly at her.

‘I wish I could go, but my master needs me,’ Lampushka said, making a thoughtful noise, ‘I’m the only one he has in his home.’

“That seems to have changed,” Alfred said, petting Lampushka behind the ears as he started purring to.

‘You better call him all the time!’ Lampushka warned, ‘I don’t want him to drink any more of the bitter liquid!’

“No more alcohol for Ivan, check that off the list,” Alfred said, the cats laughing once again.

Both seemed more content now, and it made him a little happy.

“Alfred! Come out, I made lunch!”

“Coming!”


	22. 22

Looking through his papers, he studied the layout that Marco had mapped. It was nine in the morning at this point, they would be meeting at six at night. There was still the fact that he either had to get Ivan to come with him, or knock him out for an entire day. He didn’t really want to do that.

Looking through the map one last time, he took in a deep breath. Pushing himself away from his desk, he went to his suitcase, pulling out twin pistols. Placing them to the side, he pulled out his ammo bag, shaking it slightly to count the jingles. He probably had enough.

Standing, he walked over to his closet, pulling out his suit and putting it on. It was pure black, with a white tie. Pulling out his holster harness, he put it on, slipping the jacket over. Putting his pistol’s away, he made sure they were flat, and walked out of the room. Time to confront Ivan.

“You look dressed dorogoy,” Ivan said, looking up from his book. God, he was handsome in the lighting. The thing not handsome- the fact this suit was so tight.

“I have to go somewhere today, it’s urgent. You have a suit… do you want to come with me?” Alfred said, looking to the ground, embarrassed. This was hard for him. Asking for people to come with him. Most of the time they called him a dumbass for wanting to go alone and volunteered.

“What would this urgent thing be? I don’t want to intrude on your government.”

“Mafia related, not government,” Alfred replied, as Ivan’s eyes shot open. He probably wasn’t expecting it. “Do you wanna come…?”

“You are not going alone to deal with people as dangerous as them,” Ivan said, standing quickly, “I’ll be out, give me fifteen minutes, we’ll go together.”

“I’m not going alone, there’ll be friends there!” Alfred called to him, “We have someone on the inside to!”

“One nation with about a hundred enemies? No,” Ivan replied, “humans barely count for anything. Some are smart enough, but they hardly do any good in a fighting situation.”

He wanted to defend them, say they were immortalized- but nations weren’t allowed to have immortalized anymore. They were supposed to strip them of their immortality and kill them after World War 2. The nations didn’t know that he still immortalized humans after WW2, or that he kept them.

He didn’t have the heart to kill them. They were his friends, unlike most nations who just immortalized humans for power.

As promised, Ivan came out fifteen minutes later with a suit on, his scarf still tight around his neck.

“When do we leave?” Ivan asked, coming in close and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, bringing him into a hug.

“I’d say now. We have to get to Chicago by four so we can find the warehouse that this thing’s being held in,” Alfred sighed, leaning in more to Ivan.

“What would ‘this thing’ be exactly?”

“An animal auction,” Alfred said softly, “if it goes through, the Chicago Mafia will have millions. Maybe billions. And money just grows when you’re smart.”

‘It could hurt him so badly if it goes through,’ Ivan realized, ‘kill his police, make the city more unsafe than it already must be.’

He understood. Moscow was basically Chicago before Putin.

“Then, let’s go,” Ivan said, pulling away. Alfred’s face lit up, him rushing to get his keys before backtracking into his room and coming back with a gun harness and pistols. Ivan took it and followed him out the door. As soon as he got in, Alfred started driving.

It took a while, but eventually they were in Cincinnati. They got food before continuing. Indianapolis to Chicago, where they went to the harbor. The sun was going to set soon. They ended up at a harbor, full of warehouses. Alfred seemed to know where he was going, and the two ended up behind a warehouse farthest from the water. He parked behind a load that had been dropped for the night. 

Five thirty, Alfred glared down at the clock. Rulyn should be here soon. Or she already was.

There was light knocking on the window and both of their heads snapped to it. Alfred recognized Bodaway immediately.

“Hey,” Alfred opened the door slightly.

“We have a spot. Leave the car, it’s basically scrap anyways,” Bodaway whispered, Alfred got out of the car, and Ivan followed his example. Bodaway slipped under the car and cut a few wires and the gasoline, coming back out drenched in gas.

“Don’t get set on fire,” Alfred joked.

“Bleh, this shit sucks,” Bodaway said, trying to get it out of his hair.

“Where’s Ru?” Alfred asked.

Ivan didn’t notice much about this man, besides Alfred knowing him. He seemed to be Native American, and he had short black hair that fell into a tiny ponytail. His ears had a few piercings, and he was wearing a white wifebeater with green cargo pants. A green tartan jacket was wrapped around his waist.

“This way, follow me,” Bodaway said, slipping through the area like a snake. Alfred also seemed good at this. Ivan, not so much. It wasn’t long before they got to a bus. It was high off the ground with a large underneath compartment, and Alfred and Bodaway jumped right in, Ivan following timidly behind them.

A person sat in the driver’s seat. They had short brown hair and long eyelashes, piercings covered their face, and very pale skin. They wore a black suit with high heels, but Ivan knew that in this country wearing high heels meant nothing for what gender you were.

“Ru, how’s it been at the rescue?” Alfred asked. ‘Ru’ looked up at him through lidded eyes.

“Chaotic, you know the drill,” they said. It was hard to tell what gender they were by voice to. Low for a woman and high for a man.

“Who’s your friend?” Ru asked, pointing at Ivan.

“Meet Ivan,” Alfred said, giving her a look, “Ivan, this is Rulyn.”

“Hello… uh,” Ivan stuttered. Ma’am, mister? 

“I’m genderfluid, you can call me whatever pronoun you wish,” they said calmly in Russian. Okay, so this one was optional. 

“As you wish ma’am,” Ivan replied in the same language. She knew it, so why not.

“So, you’re Alfred’s boyfriend?” Rulyn said, switching her language back to English.

“Da,” he nodded. He saw Alfred blush out of the corner of his eye and the Bodaway guy evolved into a squeaky toy.

“And you’re the personification of Russia?”

“How would you know that?” Ivan snapped, taking a few steps back. She clicked a button and the doors closed behind him.

“She knows what I am,” Alfred shrugged, “if they talk to me like they’ve known me for years, they know what I am.”

“Alfred, I shouldn’t have to tell you but humans aren’t supposed to know about us,” Ivan growled.

“Hey big bear, attention back on me.” Rulyn said, silky smooth. It had a psychotic touch. His soul screamed to move away.

“You shouldn’t know who we are,” Ivan growled, taking a few steps forward.

“Says the person who doesn’t know who we are,”

“Okay, stop it now!” Alfred interjected. He seemed more worried about Rulyn striking than he did Ivan.

“Alfred, tell your human friend to back down,” Ivan glared at her. She smiled sweetly.

“I wouldn’t need to back down, we aren’t enemies,” Rulyn chuckled, “believe me. If we were, well, you wouldn’t be alive for much longer!”

“Don’t threaten me human.”

“Go drink rocket fuel,”

(Little history thing: the Soviet Union had to switch to a different type of fuel because the fuel they were using had an alcohol content and the scientists wouldn’t stop drinking it.)

He saw red. Alfred stayed between them as they tried to smack each other.

“Rulyn, your father was a traitor and a scoundrel, Ivan, you lied your ass off during the Cold War.” Alfred said, separating the two, “You both equally suck, now knock it the fuck off!”

Both backed down. Rulyn didn’t seem to care much about the hit to her line or the fact that Alfred had said she sucked, but it hit Ivan like a brick.

Alfred knew if he tried to comfort him it would make Ivan look weak. Insults meant nothing here. Just threats and promises. With all Ivan seemed to know about America, he seemed to be missing important parts.

“What time are we at?” Alfred asked, glaring daggers at Rulyn. She didn’t seem to care.

“Soon,” she shrugged, “there’s a party before the selling. Bidding begins at nine, we should be out by eight unless everything goes wrong.”

“Do you have a plan?” Ivan questioned, his aura almost coming out. He knew he could scare these measly little humans shitless, but he didn’t want Alfred to get any angrier.

“Get the animals out, quietest to loudest. Maybe kill a few people, get shit done.” Rulyn sighed, “If it all goes wrong we kill more people. Not that bad. People work for the system anyways, or at least pay heed to it.”

“The system…?” Ivan asked. The Americans went silent, not meeting his eyes.

“Society… American society I guess,” Bodaway said, letting out a breath, “I better head back. Marco will be inside. Luck to you!”

Rulyn opened the door, and the Native fled.

“Time,” Alfred said, his eyes following where Bodaway went.

“Now.” Rulyn laughed, smiling like a maniac. Ivan wouldn’t put it below her. Alfred returned the look.

Rulyn slipped a briefcase from under the seat and carried it beside her, Alfred following behind as she exited. Ivan wasn’t to far behind.

“Hey, Vanya,” Alfred whispered to him.

“Da?” He whispered back.

“Do this,” Alfred said, holding his hands behind his back with his elbows out and his head up. Ivan copied him, and Alfred slipped a hand into the nook of his elbow. He felt his cheeks heat and he hoped that he wasn’t blushing.

Eventually, they got to the warehouse. It smelled like gasoline, and Ivan wasn’t even sure they were in the right place. Until a man stepped out. He held himself high, and was wearing a bouncer’s attire.

Whatever was in the case, Rulyn flashed him the inside. He motioned to a hidden door, and the trio went into the building.

It smelled far better here, with an excess of tables and plants that you would find in a high end establishment instead of a rickety dock warehouse. A few people were already walking around, thin ladies with tight dresses and men in suits. Someone had already brought out the champagne, and there was a bartender on sight. A few guards were also around.

“Don’t drink after anyone,” Alfred advised, “and if you do get a drink, cover it with your hand when you aren’t taking a sip. Everyone here is an enemy.”

“Rich people drug other rich people?” Ivan whispered to him. Rulyn lead them to a table and got the bidding sign, placing it in front of herself before sitting with her arms folded on her lap.

“People drug people, class doesn’t matter,” Alfred said. His gaze landed over a few people and his lip fell into a thin line.

“Can I get you anything?” A cheery waiter said, coming up to them.

“No, thank you sir,” Alfred shook his head. He changed his voice, Ivan noted, and he sounded older. And in turn, richer.

Rulyn shook her head, and Ivan followed her example.

The waiter nodded and left. A few more people walked in, all looking the same.

“Time stamp one,” Rulyn whispered after about a half hour of waiting, “let’s go Ivan.”

“Ah, so you do have a plan,” he whispered to her in Russian. She didn’t bother to glare at him, keeping a nonchalant aura around her.

“Of course there’s a plan,” she growled back in the same language. The two walked over to the bar, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Alfred start to act his part. He made conversation with people, seeming to try and find info. Hard to tell if it was a tough crowd.

Rulyn got a drink, Ivan didn’t. She turned and rested against his body, slipping a pill into the drink. It dissolved in a few seconds.

“Stay,” she warned, slipping away. There was a man in a full black suit that seemed to have caught her interest, and she swapped the drinks when nobody was looking before walking back over to him.

She dipped her finger in the drink and something white dissolved, before checking her nail polish. Nothing changed. She set it beside herself, leaving it in the gaze of the bartender.

“What did you slip into your drink? Nobody is dumb enough to drink after you, you know that,” the bartender said, walking over to her.

“Nothing,” she yawned.

“I saw you, you put your finger in the glass. What was on your finger?” The bartender growled.

“I already said it, nothing,” she snapped back. Ivan had no idea what she was doing, so he didn’t interrupt.

“Oh ya? Prove it,” he said, smirking. Without a second thought, she downed half of it.

“Want the rest?” she held it out for him. He took it and started sipping.

After five minutes he leaned into his walkie-talkie.

“Sir, I have to leave for a few moments,” he said, holding his stomach.

“Why?”

“Bathroom,” he groaned.

“Well, hurry up!”

He left his station. Ivan noticed that the other man also left, holding his head.

“What was that?” he asked looking at her.

“Laxatives,” Rulyn chuckled, “the other guy got laxatives mixed with a slow acting form of cyanide.”

He didn’t think to ask why they didn’t affect her. He didn’t even realize they should have affected her.

“Wow,” Ivan mouthed, Rulyn looked at Alfred for the first time in five minutes and he moved, walking towards a hallway.

“Who was the other guy,” Ivan asked her.

“Head of Security,” she smiled, “after all, you have to cut something off at the head~”

Ivan looked to her in amazement. This was no normal human. She had power behind her every movement. Bodaway did to he realized, yet he was more meek about it.

Alfred walked down the hallway to where the animals were being kept. One guard.

“You can’t be here,” the guard said gruffly.

“Oh… I’m sorry. I was just wondering if you’ve seen the animals? I’ve heard their gorgeous!” He said, doing his woman’s voice. It was on point.

“Uh ma’am… no…” he muttered. He was obviously new. The last guy who had guarded the animals had been killed by Alfred himself, so he had a guess. He also saw keys.

“Could you tell me what they are?” Alfred said, still mimicking a woman, “Pretty please~?”

“I’m not permitted to. You have to wait for the bidding ma’am.”

“I’m not one to wait~” Alfred purred, pushing the guard against the door.

“Uh-” the guard lost his composure. This woman looked like a lesbian… but she was pressed up against him in every right way-

He got kneed in the balls.

He would have let out a shriek if not for the woman wrapping something around his mouth. She grabbed his keys and opened the door, dragging him in with her.

He was left on the ground, curled in on himself pathetically. Before something collided with his head and the world went black.

Quietly hoping he killed the guard, Alfred moved his foot from the other mans face and looked around.

Everything was in a crate, besides a Marine Iguana, who was in a tank that was way too small.

The door creaked and his head snapped to it. Marco slipped in, held up another set of keys, and walked over to a big door, clicking it open. This wasn't the time to talk, just to move.

They opened it, and Bodaway walked in carrying a packaging trolley. The first thing they started loading was the Marine Iguana, the lizard rolling around in it’s tank like no tomorrow. Marco was on watch. Bodaway only needed help to get the tank on the trolley. Alfred noticed the bus had been moved right in front of the back door.  
Alfred could feel the fear and confusion amongst the animals, and it hurt his heart.

“We’re here to save you,” he said. The animals lit up, some starting to make noises, “you have to be quiet.”

Silence again. But there was hope now as they talked amongst themselves. Alfred could pinpoint big cats, a few lupus, a crocodile, a bird, and a few others.

The door clicked open, Ivan and Rulyn walking in. They were able to work faster- Alfred carrying entire crates away from the warehouse and into the bus. The bigger crates got put onto the lower level, and the smaller ones in the seating area that had been stripped of the seats, leaving an expanse for the creatures.

They were moving the largest crate when there was banging on the door. Thinking fast, Alfred started to hurry, pushing the last crate onto the bottom. Rulyn started ushering Bodaway and Ivan, Ivan having none of that and trying to get back to where Alfred was running to the last box. The bird. 

Marco stood there, and the two shared a look. Alfred punched him in the face- he staggered and fell, a bruise already forming on his face. Alfred grabbed the box as the door slammed open. Rulyn started the bus as Alfred fled immediate death. The box was bulky and heavy but-

“I’m gonna throw your box, fly immediately and follow,” he whispered. The bird was frozen, but gave conformation. 

The crate shattered, and the bird followed Alfred. Bullets rained from the guards, but he managed to grab Ivan’s hand as they drove away. 

Guards rushed out of the building, each leaving trails of shells from their semi-automatics. 

The group sighed as they were finally safe. The eagle relaxed on top of one of the other cages, squawking lightly as its form of sigh,

Alfred felt calm. Until he saw a growing red stain appear on Ivan’s suit.

“Vanya?!” he said, panicked, rushing over. He was hit. The Russian slumped against him.

“Whatdidithitohmygodwhatdidithit?” he said, his voice quivering. Rulyn was busy driving away, and Bodaway had no medical skills whatsoever.

“Rulyn!” he cried, looking to her. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Bodaway, take the wheel right now,” she growled, shooting up. Bodaway instantly grabbed the wheel and tried to figure out what he was doing.

“I can’t drive a bus!”

“You have five seconds to learn!” Rulyn snapped, rushing over. She helped move the Russian onto his back, pulling off his coat and studying the wound. Alfred was gripping the back of his neck like it hurt, and she wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

Putting pressure against the wound, she started counting.

“Alfred, medical kit in the glove compartment!” she said, his eyes snapping to her before he rushed to get the first aid kit. He quickly handed it to her, the Russian making quick   
work of getting what she needed. Grabbing a towel, she threw it to Alfred and he started putting pressure, almost pulling away when Ivan grunted.

“What did it hit?” Alfred asked, looking at her.

“Lowest rib, didn’t go far enough to break it, luckily. It’ll hurt like a bitch for a bit,” Rulyn said, grabbing her pliers and jutting them into the wound. Ivan hissed in his sleep, trying to subconsciously push her away while she tried to find the bullet. Grabbing it, she pulled. Blood started gushing from the wound and Rulyn got her sutures, quickly putting them in like second nature.

Alfred held the back of his neck and bit his tongue, tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t used to so much pain. He healed in mere seconds and never had to dwell on it. But other personifications from outside his family didn’t.

And he could feel every ounce of pain Ivan felt.

“It’s okay now,” she whispered to him. Alfred was falling into shock, Ivan was asleep. Like she knew he would, he slumped against his mate as she washed the blood off him.

“Bodaway, out of the driver’s seat,” she ordered, getting back into her place. Ignoring the blood coating her hands and suit, Bodaway walked over to the two men, looking at them. They were peaceful, and thankfully not at peace.

He sat on one of the other seats, and fell asleep.

Rulyn drove the bus back to Portsmouth -back to the rental- and parked out front. The goal was to not be around when Ivan woke up.

“Al,” she shook him awake, the nation looking up to her with glowing eyes, “carry him inside. We’ll give you an update tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Alfred muttered, looking down at his lover.

“For what? My only skill is not being an asshole,” Rulyn shrugged, “now go. I’m functioning on twenty fucking hours awake.”

“Go to sleep when you get home…” Alfred said with a weak smile, scooping Ivan up bridal style.

“I will,” she nodded. Alfred carried him into the house, and Rulyn got prepared to drive for another few hours.

Alfred left Ivan on his bed, going over and flopping over onto his own. 

“Please be okay…” Alfred cried, holding his pillow. He fell into a restless sleep not long after, red lines flowing down his cheeks.


	23. 23

He felt a stabbing pain in his stomach and woke up, gently pushing himself up. He was shirtless, and looking down he noticed there was a small stitched line in his chest.  
How drunk did he get that the hospital had to come pick him up?

Looking around, he noticed that one: he wasn’t in the hospital, two: memories were making his head spin.

Oh, ya, he was on the bus… then it hurt. He heard Alfred yelling, something from… Rulyn(?) about a bullet? Another guy off to the side… some guy Alfred punched for some reason-

He got shot by the American Mafia after doing an auction bust.

Shit.

“Ivan?” Alfred said, walking through the door. There were lines running down his face, bags under his eyes, and a few light bruises coating his skin.

“Hey dorogoy,” he coughed, looking at the bottle of water that had been placed by his bed and drinking it.

“You’re okay! Alfred exclaimed, walking over and sitting down on the bed beside him, waiting for him to finish drinking before hugging him, Ivan kissing him on the forehead as he pulled away.

“Fine,” Ivan said, inspecting his wound. It was tiny- the machine gun bullets that those men were using were smaller than a dime. It wasn’t even a bad wound, only three sutures.

“Do you want some of my pain medicine?” Alfred asked, looking at the wound with curiosity. In his mind that barely counted as a wound, maybe a minor scratch, but he could feel   
the pain etching from the bite. He remembered bullets like the one that had been in Ivan ricocheting off his head because his skin healed so fast small bullets bounced off.

“I’ll be fine,” the Russian replied, “you need your medicine.”

“Okay!” Alfred exclaimed, standing up and leaving. Ivan was disappointed that his lover was leaving him alone so suddenly before Alfred walked back in with an orange bottle.

“Alfred,” Ivan warned, “I don’t-”

“Say that one more time and I will punch you.”

Ivan shut up as Alfred handed him a pill, swallowing it with some water. Whatever, it would help or something.

Hero and Lampushka were curled up on the bed beside him, he noticed, petting his cat as he purred.

“Floofy boi was worried about you this morning,” Alfred said, “and wouldn’t stop bothering me about it.”

‘Shut up.’

“I’m not surprised, he’s a good companion.” Ivan said, petting him on the belly and moving his hand every time Lampushka moved until his cat just plain grabbed him by the wrist and started licking his hand.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alfred asked, wanting so badly to just check him completely over and kiss all his wounds and his lips and just be with him.

“I have a few questions.”

Oh no.

“Ya?”

“First of all, who are Rulyn and Bodaway?” Ivan questioned, Alfred trying to think of the last excuse. He’d said they were… animal rescuers. 

“Animal rescuers from around this area. Rulyn used to be my old boss which is why she knew so much about me, and Bodaway was the second in command there,” he said, laughing, “for all you seem to remember, you’re missing some chunks.”

Ivan realized he had said they were from a rescue, Ivan realized, when they got on the bus.

“And they’ll take care of the animals?”

‘That I almost died for,’ Alfred added in his head.

“They’re government funded for stuff like this.”

“Good,” was all Ivan said. He had a feeling he was gonna ask more questions.

“How was I treated?”

“Rulyn is a medical professional,”

“How long have you known them?”

“Eight years.”

“How old are they?”

“Rulyn is 32, Bodaway is 34, these questions are getting ruder.”

“Just curious,” he said, scooting himself over as Alfred sat down.

“Why did you tell them what you were?” Ivan asked, starting the cycle again.

“I bothered one of the big cats and he jumped on me,” Alfred fake shuddered, “Ru was the one that had to get him off me, and was the one who said she would take me to the hospital. Bodaway was right behind her with the phone to dial the ambulance and I had to tell them.”

“Is that what this is?” Ivan said, tracing his fingers over some of the scars on Alfred’s back. There were a lot that looked like what you would expect the claw marks of a big cat to be.

Alfred felt him touch the scars from that one time he fell down a mountain and nodded.

He used to be proud he had never been attacked by an animal but now it was making this more difficult.

“What about these?” Ivan asked, tracing over the scars on his shoulder from when either Freedom, Thunder, or Hero would sit on his shoulder.

‘Me!’

‘Don’t sound so proud.’

“Hero.”

“Why was Hero on your shoulder?”

“Baby, come here,” he said, motioning for Hero to come over, which she did. Alfred picked her up and sat her on his shoulder, the cat digging her claws in to prove a point.

“You trained your cat to sit on your shoulder?”

“What else am I supposed to do in my free time?”

“This isn’t something people do on a casual Sunday.”

“Have you been to America? Once?”

“You people are an odd bunch.”

“Says the Russian.”

“Fair,” Ivan sighed, Alfred taking Hero off his shoulder and setting her on his lap, petting her as she laid down. Alfred smiled before gesturing to him to come closer, the Russian looking at him with confusion before their lips pecked together for a second. Alfred smiled and giggling as he pulled away.

“Why are you so easy to please?”

“The average person treats me better than I treat myself,” Alfred giggled, “you treat me twice as good as the average person.”

“To analyze, just because you hate yourself,” Ivan shook his head. He would believe it. He drew his hand up from the Americans back and knitted into his hair, pressing their foreheads together before kissing him on the nose.

“You deserve a medal,” Alfred whispered, closing his eyes and resting his head against the Russian’s chest.

This was their last day together before Ivan got on a plane to Russia and he wouldn’t see him for who knows how long.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, pointing to the scratch on Ivan’s chest.

“It’s fine,” Ivan said, “I haven’t done anything like that in a long while. It felt good to be alive again.”

“You sound old.”

“I’m the rude one now?” Ivan asked playfully as Alfred rolled his eyes, Ivan kissing him on the top of the head.

“I love you.”

“Ya tozhe lyublu tebya.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Three… two… one…” Rulyn said as her and her partner used the crowbars to snap the box, an Iberian Lynx hissing as it was brought to light.

“C’mon out, I won’t hurt ya,” she cooed, getting a piece of dried meat and holding it out. She was thankful she was wearing gloves when the lynx whacked at her.

“Hurry up! We still have things to move!” Conner yelled from outside the bus.

“Tell that to the cat!” Sami yelled back.

“Knock it off you two,” Rulyn said, “you’re scaring him.”

Hence the two shutting up.

“Come here,” she muttered under her breath, shooting her hand out and picking up the lynx around the belly, hoping it wouldn’t bite her as she quickly walked over to the   
entrance of the bus where a large dog crate laid, open, and put the lynx in before closing it. Cole threw a towel over it as the creature hissed, backing itself into a corner.

“We won’t hurt you,” Cole tried to convince the cat as it growled, throwing a fit.

“Alfred will need to tame all these things when he gets back,” Rulyn sighed, “even that deer.”

“As I’ll always say,” Conner said, “they are ANIMALS.”

“So are you, don’t act like a saint.”

“Is that a good thing in this situation?”

“Shut up Cole,” Rulyn muttered, grabbing the handles on the cage and picking it up, bringing it outside and putting it on the tractor’s trailer, Melantha taking this time to strap it down.

“This iguana seems pretty nice,” Cole said, petting it. It really didn’t seem bothered.

“Carry it,” Rulyn replied, Cole taking this time to pick it up. It really wasn’t bothered. Who raised this creature to be so docile.

“And the next crate is, drumroll please,” Sami said, hooking the crowbar under the wood and cracking it open, a dhole jumping out as Conner quickly shoved a dog crate in, the animal getting gently prodded into it.

“Yay, now Casa has a friend and she can stop trying to be friends with the coyotes!” Cole said, laughing as Conner pulled the crate back out and he carried the iguana out, probably to go chill in the tractor.

“Next one-”

“Give me a moment,” Conner said. Clanging was heard as he put another dog crate in the entrance.

“Now?” Sami asked, getting bored.

“Go.”

Opening the box, another dhole ran out, hiding under the driver's seat as Rulyn picked it up, sighing as it tried to bite her thumbs. It got put in the crate and put with its buddy.

Sami, this time, waited until Conner had another crate in the door before cracking open the next crate.

“Red panda,” Rulyn sighed, picking it up as it started to scream. It got put in the crate.

Maned Wolf, African Wild Dog, and a very young lion-tiger hybrid were the last ones before they the top area, a few more people gathering. With ropes and tranquilizers.

She handed the hybrid cub off to a wandering tiger who had given birth only a few weeks before, the female taking it gently in her jaws before running off back to her cubs.

Cole left with the tractor, and everyone was ready. Might as well start with the biggest.

White Rhino.

“Slowly back up!” she yelled, Conner readying his lasso before throwing it, hooking it onto the rhinos horn and tightening it, dragging it forward slowly, and leading it towards the   
horse trailer.

The rhino charged him, and he booked it into the trailer, jumping out the open window and into the bed of the truck it was attached to as the rhino almost ran into the wall. 

Adany closed it in, and the car started, moving the rhino to its kennel, something he would only stay in for maybe a day before Alfred came back and told it the rules and allowed it to leave.

The second trailer was opened, and she heard a click as a gun was readied.

Yellow eyes stared back at her.

Where did they get a melanistic tiger.

Looking it right in the eyes, she backed up, taking instances to look away for a quick second before looking back so it would move. The big cat followed her right into the trailer as   
she jumped out the window before closing it, jumping out of the truck bed as the tiger threw a fit.

Siamese Crocodile, a white lioness, and an Amur and Snow Leopard.

How they got an Amur Leopard, she had no idea. From the way it acted she guessed it was bred in captivity specifically to be sold, as it even allowed her to touch it before actually moving, and when it moved it was slouched and sad and followed willingly.

She wanted to hug it and give it kisses but it would probably break her neck.

“I think they had a predator fetish.” Sami said as the last animal moved on to what would be its kennel.

“I think they did too.”


	24. 24

He was little spoon. He felt Ivan’s arms around his waist and wanted to cry. This was the day of his trip back to Russia.

Wiggling out of his arms, he made sure he was still asleep before going to the kitchen, putting some bacon on the stove and going over to open the door, looking out the window to see the trees he had grown attached to.

Sighing, he started making breakfast, flipping the bacon and starting some eggs.

“Dobroye utro dorogoy,” Ivan whispered, his voice husky, as he wrapped his arms around his lovers waist, kissing him on the neck.

“Good morning sweets,” Alfred said, kissing him on the cheek before going back to what he was doing.

“Are you gonna be okay when I leave?” Ivan asked. Alfred could hear the worry he was trying to hide, and it broke his heart.

“I’ll be fine.”

“No cutting or burning?” Ivan questioned, brushing the hair from his face as Alfred turned to him, “You don’t deserve to hurt yourself.”

“I’ll try my best,” Alfred replied, looking to the ground, “What about you? I don’t want to see the drunk man I saw on the sixth day again.”

“I won’t drink any alcohol.”

“No, just don’t drink alone,” Alfred said, “it’s bad for your mental health, and don’t go to a bar to get drunk, that’s bad for you and everyone else.”

“You learned the limits of mentality didn’t you?” Ivan asked, petting his hair.

“I wanted to be able to help others,” he replied, going back to cooking.

“By breaking yourself?”

“All of ‘em are broken,” Alfred said, “every person on the streets regrets something so badly that they want to kill themselves over it. The ones that push through are the ones that make it, the ones who don’t are six feet down. I’m no different, but I don’t die.”

Ivan was in stunned silence.

“No. That’s not how it should be,” Ivan replied, “Alfred we are better than humans.”

“We’re better humans, not better than humans.”

“Al-”

“Sweets, I don’t want to get in a fight,” Alfred said, reaching up and cupping his cheek, “can we drop it?”

“Alright,” Ivan said, kissing him on the nose as he giggled, reaching up to pull him down to kiss him on the lips.

Alfred went back to cooking, and Ivan walked away, slyly patting him on the butt as he went to sit down at the table.

“When’s your flight?”

“11,” Ivan answered, Alfred looking to the clock on the wall. It was 7.

“We leave at 8:30, bitch better not be delayed by your shitty weather,” 

“It won’t, there’s no rain surprisingly.” Ivan said, scrolling through his phone with a raised brow.

Alfred served the food and they ate in silence, Alfred not wanting to believe that he would be alone again. Well not exactly… alone… but, alone.

Lonely.

“I’ll miss you,” Ivan said, standing up and kissing him on the eyebrow.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Alfred replied, “it’s only goodbye if there’s a 65% chance or more of death.”

“Oddball.”

“You still chose me.”

“And I don’t regret it.” he answered, grabbing the two plates and washing them as Alfred started looking through the fridge for what he would grab, pulling out his phone and   
getting an uber. It was already eight… time was passing too fast.

The two got dressed, Alfred making sure to pack all his stuff up in his suitcase as he went and cleaned up the area.

Leaving it in his room, he walked out and found Ivan waiting for him, his suitcase packed and beside him with Lampushka’s kennel on top of it, looking down at his phone. Alfred   
had no idea what he was looking at, but he had been jumpy all day, constantly checking it.

The uber beeped and the two walked out, staying silent as they did. Alfred greeted the driver and asked for the drivers name before actually getting in, something Ivan noticed to be quite weird, but this was America and the entire country seemed to have a little too much crack.

An hour later they were at the airport. Alfred got a pretzel to drown his worries in and Ivan stayed with him.

“I have to go through customs now,” Ivan said, trying to be nonchalant about his misery. Alfred checked his phone and noticed it was 9:45.

“I love you so much, moon and back,” Alfred said, hugging him before kissing him gently on the lips.

“I love you too, my little angel,” Ivan replied, brushing some of the hair from his face before kissing his forehead, waving as he left his lover behind.

Alfred wanted to choke on his own tears, but he had to push through. He waved back, barely raising his hand above his shoulder. 

As soon as Ivan was out of sight he left, getting another Uber and driving back to the rental, starting to clean it up and putting his stuff in the living room, getting collapsible boxes and putting the cooking supplies in them. They could be scavenged for parts.

He dumped the cat litter and had a conversation with Hero for the time being. Trash, the last of his laundry he had left hanging, the two blankets, anything that he’d bought really.

He heard knocking and walked towards the door, opening it to reveal Rulyn. He almost broke down crying as soon as he saw her. 

He felt tears run down his cheeks and she hugged him. Laughter rang and he looked up to see both Cole and Sami, the girl hugging him and Cole walking around to try and grab   
his stuff.

“Why is this so heavy?!” 

“That’s a blender,” Rulyn said, walking up and picking it up with ease, “how drunk are you?”

“WHAT THE FUCK KINDA BLENDER IS THAT HEAVY?”

“Shut up,” Sami said, grabbing his bags, “I wanna go home.”

It didn’t take long for all the stuff to be packed nicely in the truck that Rulyn had decided to bring, and they got in, playing music from the 2000’s as they went.

Alfred, as soon as they were out of the way of the city, let himself go, his stripes coating his skin and his eyes going black.

His stripes started to glow a bright blue and he choked on his water, putting it own and looking at his skin with surprise.

“Oh my god you’re literally glowing,” Rulyn said, running a hand over the skin.

“How come Mr. Demon gets to glow?!” Cole asked, wrapping his arms around the seat in front of him.

“You dumbass’ be stupid!” Sami exclaimed, “He’s a komodo dragon.”

“No but seriously,” Rulyn said, “I think it’s your birthday.”

“What would give you that idea?” Alfred asked, scratching his stripes. Nothing happened. Fuck.

“When have you done this before?” Rulyn asked, “Not to mention you got a little thing on the back of your neck.”

“Quick, what’s my zodiac?!” he exclaimed, Sami and Rulyn shooting for their phones.

“Gemini,” Rulyn replied, smiling, “we be twins.”

“Hey I was right!” Cole exclaimed.

“Shut up Aquarius.”

“I will call my lawyer.”

“Ah shit there’s two times two Gemini and one Aries to level them out,” Sami muttered.

“Guess what May 21st Gemini is characterized as.” Rulyn asked, laughing as she looked at her phone.

“No clue.”

“Having a lot of kids,”

“You’re joking,” Alfred replied, the peanut gallery in the backseat laughing.

“Look,” she said, tossing it over.

“Bitch.” Alfred said, exasperated, “BITCH.”

“It just be like that sometimes,” Cole said, reading over his shoulder.

The traits listed consisted of: mood swings, a large family, entertaining, and clever.

“Ten out of ten,” Sami said, opening the page on her phone.

“So my birthday’s May 21st and I’m a Gemini,” he said, laughing, “not that surprising.”

“Ha! You’re lucky we love you,” Rulyn said, sticking out her tongue playfully, “we might as well throw you to the curb.”

“Hey!”

“Ya, before you can find more children to adopt.” Cole said, chuckling.

“How about we go to the orphanage-”

“NO!”

The group continued to laugh as the car pulled into the gate.

“Mama!”


	25. Epilogue

So! Fun fact about this story:

Every character has a meaning, and represents something.

Alfred represents the secretive (not that surprising). Ivan represents the ignorant.

The reason Alfred has all those problems is because he’s in this constant defensive cycle and doesn’t want to get out of it because he wants to be safe but he can’t. He doesn’t.

Ivan will always get close but he never wants to believe. He kneels to a throne of dust, to a king with a broken crown, and never asks questions. He was even warned (in the story) by a splice of Alfred’s soul and he went ‘bad dream bad’ and never thought twice about it and actually started avoiding asking questions. Because he’s ignorant and shit. Alfred just kinda says what he wants to hear, which is creepy in its own right.

The house represents the secret (wow nobody expected that).

Rulyn represents Power and Strength, that being the reason she is responsible for the entire household while Alfred is gone. That is the reason she has a background in basically   
anything, because that’s what Power is: Control.

Bodaway represents the leftovers of what doesn’t get swept under the rug. The people on the other end of the phone, the whispers of someone talking behind the door. It’s the   
reason I chose him for the Animal Auction chapter. It’s very unorthodox for/to Ivan, and that leaves leftovers. 

Cole represents family, not surprising since he’s literally a human puppy. This is the reason he saw Alfred off in ‘4’, a last farewell from his family for three weeks. Same reason he’s in the Party chapter.

Lani represents religion. She’s seen as scary to outsiders, and very powerful in ‘her element: the dark’ because that’s how Christians saw the Natives religions.

Samuel represents what nobody is given credit for. He’s literally a doctor. The natives had better medicine and health practices than every european country combined. When the   
Spaniards killed the Inca and overthrew their empire, they threw modern medicine back 500 years, and nobody recognizes that.

Sami represents the act of having allies and friends. She’s best friends/adopted sisters with Rulyn (power) because she’s basically a sidekick. Exact reason she’s also in the Party chapter.

Noah (Roanoke) represents language. SO MANY LANGUAGES.

Conner (Confederacy) represents forgiveness. Let’s face it, why would he be alive if Alfred couldn’t forgive and forget? He isn’t a secret, France and England know about him (they fought alongside the Confederacy), they just think he’s dead, which hides the forgiveness of our little liar.

Matthew is barely in this story, but he represents meekness. He knows something’s up, but he doesn’t remember anything from his youth and he’s too scared to speak up about it. He’s scared and he hides.

Angelica and Veronica represent… you know those friends that that one friend always tells their secrets to but never to you? That.

Micheal (Molossia) represents the hint. That little piece of something big.

Every other part of the house just represents secrets, from the kids to the siblings to the animals to the powers is all just the secrets.

Alfred’s demon/human sides represent him being two-faced, being more comfortable in his true form (the demon half) around his secrets. Because he is a liar, and he’s damn good at it.

The reason Alfred in his household are fine with being in Hell (even the humans that know that one day they won’t be coming back out) is because in Dante’s Inferno (yes I am a huge literature nerd, f off) liars and cheats go to Hell, so just… symbolism.

Protag/Antag list.  
Protagonist (ex, Deku): Ivan  
Anti-Hero (ex, Bakugo): Alfred (it’s so ironic)  
Antagonist (ex, Dabi): the people at the animal auction I guess. This story isn’t very… antagonist heavy…

Hi! My name is Rieka, and I’m the author of this book. This entire book is a giant test. And the test was good!   
So, there’s an award in order.

A second book. Called:

Shattered Souls Make Good Pets

~~~

The brakes skidded, dust flying up.

“Just use the machine gun!” she yelled, as her partner chuckled, “Instead of that stupid rifle!”

“Like hell,” Alfred said, half his body hanging out of the car as he aimed. The gun kicked, and an explosion burst from the sand, “is that the last one?”

“That appears to be-”

Bullets rained down on the car, making lines of white over the back window as it was pelted, and Rulyn started the car, skidding around to face their adversary. Alfred reloaded his gun and aimed, cursing as the bullet got stuck before smacking it a few times, throwing it to the side (coincidentally on his drivers lap) and grabbing a semi-automatic from the back seat, loading it while Rulyn danced around the enemy car.

Aiming, he fired, turning the car into a chunk of metal on fire, and shooting the man who tried to escape it.

“We gotta set the fires out,” Rulyn advised, “Australia ain’t exactly friendly with fire.”

“One moment,” Alfred said, raising a clawed hand and burying the vehicles without even touching them.

“Let’s go home,” Ru said with a smile as Alfred sat back down on the seat and strapped in, “I want some good food.”

“Agreed.”


End file.
